Inevitably, we fall out of love.
With things, with other people…
with ourselves. We take big falls
off of rooftops, and trees, and jungle gyms.
Fallen, broken, splintered, fractured.
Patched together by doctors; arms
and legs in splints and plaster casts.
Don’t worry, you’ll be as good as new in about
twelve weeks. Like it never happened.
Forgotten, and free to roam again.
Old worn much loved and used toys get replaced
by newer, shinier models.
That once valued action figure now gets
strapped to an M-80 fire cracker and a
homemade parachute, to be tossed from
a boyhood rooftop-just another casualty
of war, that we so often dream of as children,
that we constantly fight as adults; imagination
and make believe transformed into the
We fall out of love and we discard.
This is our crowning achievement as a species.
Some things just take longer to throw away
than others. But don’t worry,
something bigger and brighter,
and tremendously more distracting
will never fail to come along.
Our minds, technology, psyche,
sex, drugs, and rock and roll,
other people, animals, religion, the planet.