Little Miracles

Little Miracles

Her heart's so heavy
with memory today.
She can write it down as fiction
but she doesn't know what to say.
The cats are on the front porch
they don't listen to her.

What she sees are
the little miracles
that make up her life.
Cell phone haikus
to the ghost of her wife.
Hipster concubines
and neon that lights up the night
it just don't seem right.

Enlightened rouges break down the 4th wall
Zen dharma bums play psychic volley ball
as Miss Twila takes note of it all.

What she see is nine to five
as she walks the last mile.
Over and over like Groundhog day
gathering her fingerprint file.
Getting off on how easy it is to fake a smile
and just go out in style.

The downtown crown in a hologram fight
shadows white-out on white
they rolled up the streets and shut out the lights.

Because her heart's so heavy
with memory today.
She can write it down as fiction
but she doesn't know what to say.
The four horsemen of the apocalypse
in line to pay to play.

-Will Dockery (words) / Henry Conley (music)
3-21-23