The Optimist
You may think that I run
When the mortgage bites
At the soft back of my knee
With teeth of interest.
You may see a pallor
On my surprised cheeks
When my mechanic
Hands me the bill
Like a torpedo
Flapping pages in my checkbook.
You may think
of robotic gestures
When I am told
that my services are no longer needed
or read a physical sinking
in to my posture
when a vanity–soiling comment
tracks me down for the kill.
But……..
I travel down a camouflaged road
I hear the silent waltz
I smell roast chicken sizzling
At a hidden meal.
I see joyful turquoise in my blindness.
I feel the soft flesh of a loving waist
Behind thick white stone.
Deep inside me
There is a split level studio
Full of wet paintings
And a pool
That reflects the least poisonous
Intentions of a sarcastic world.
1/16/09 Joshua Kight