He rides an i8
And fancies himself a knight.
With his broad sword
And his whiskey glass shield,
He slays dragons
Only to watch their limp forms transform into maidens.
My friends and I
Wear walls of armour,
And smash empty bottled brains against rocks,
Shattering hearts without meaning to.
Guilt ridden, we carve wooden swords from tree branches,
And fend off the nasty lies the shattered brave broadcast.
We practice our swordplay on the beach by the bay,
Our words curling into blades.
We laugh when we bruise.
We taunt when we lose.
And he stands at the edge of the cliffs,
His eyes a sea kissed blue
From the time he ran from the rain.
He watches us
And sees us breathe fire.
Not comprehending that we swallow the sun
And spit Helium bubbles for fun.
We are our own knights now.
In dresses of mail,
We slam against the pavement infested streets as we walk
Down to the alley
To slay the i8 monster.
YOU ARE READING
Cityscape
PoetryA collection of poems written in the city. Written for city folk who don't quite belong. And for everyone else who fall in between the cracks of 'here' and 'there.'
