Pole Vaulter
I will find the balance.
Somewhere between
Human and God.
A place just right:
not too hot,
and not too cold.
Tiptoeing on
the crooked spinal cord
Of flooded roads,
I look down, but--
Quickly,
I look up.
Balancing in-
between Good and Evil,
I remove my mask
at midnight, alone.
Desire and innocence
duel insatiably.
And forget the primaries.
Forget the pastels:
Let us seep
Into the neutral tones.
Reflecting the Earth,
and complimenting Heaven.
It isn't jazz,
nor is it classical.
The sun:
It shines,
but the clouds break
Its glaring compassion
Because
I am not a doormat
Nor am I a warrior.
The smoke: too big,
It looks like clowns.
Smeared.
But sadness burdens me --
With morose perversion.
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