Upon the Conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn

by Thomas Piekarski

In all absence of pretense I do without any choice bemoan the dent
I made in your metallic heart. Upon further review I relish that day
we spent opining on whether the sky was raw or boiled. Subsequent
to the last adventure we had with Sir Francis Drake I once woke up
to yesterday. Every second my digitized image is being transmitted
across a transcontinental internet indelibly forged in the world order.
Studying the sun I went blind but saw everything in one giant flash.
Then those government hires fleeced my treasure chest of diamonds.
I would plod about town shining shoes of homeless if I had any guts.
The politicizing got to many of my neighbors so they hopped aboard
skiffs and sailed for Polynesia, yet only to find themselves homesick.
In utter disgrace the maid who lost her virginity to a god was banned.
It wasn’t my fault they denied him entry at Port Identity, nor Hume’s.
Maybe some day when the tide is high and oceans are made of blood
we will know what red is. Some day we just may finally get the truth.