Patchwork Roses
Patchwork roses
Out on the ledge
Made out of
Scrambled eggs and spiderwebs
and
Black and white tables with wobbly legs
Those are my favorite roses of all
Whitewashed and blisteringly clean
Until the newsprint gets all over them
And they wilt and die from the incessant
Pounding of snowflakes on their patchwork petals
Then it’s a sad time
A time for drinking brandy and drinking cologne
And drinking the commonest chalk drinks of the commonest commonfolk
And yelling at the corruption of snowflakes and the glaciers that spawned them
And kicking out the jams with your neighbor until the push lever is pushed
And then the world ends because you pushed
The push lever
Why did you push it?
Didn’t you see the sign?
Snow-touched roses are no excuse
To end the world like that
You suck.