life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he drained his glass of purpose
she watched as he paid and turned to leave
his movements proving his point
for what real purpose do we have
when all we do is live and die
and whisper to deities in the sky.

life is a cosmic joke
she said
when the till was short again
and drinks were missing from their bottles
as meaning was from her existence
he watched as she left
for the very last time
from a job that she hated
like the life he despised

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he lit up his last cigarette
and sat in the cold outside his bar
next to a homeless man
with as little hope of a good long life
as anyone else he'd ever met
in a world of perpetual sunset

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he warmed his hands
over a dying fire
with a young man
who was lost or some such
he took the ragged gloves off his hands
and tried to feel his fingers again
in vain
as all the world is
in trying to find some hidden bliss

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he crossed another identical street
next to a woman or maybe a girl
who was crying about a lost lover
he walked and he wandered
but he never found it
even with all his persistence
as we never find meaning for our existence

life is a cosmic joke
she said
as she wept into my hair
mascara running down her cheeks
as she told of her terrible break up
and the way he used to hit her  
and how she was glad he was gone
but how she wished he would come back
her indecision mirroring that of all the world
do we matter or are we matter
which illusion is left to shatter

life is a cosmic joke
I wrote
over and over
like some meaningful quote
as if it mattered if it was in a poem
or if someone read it
it doesn't need to be said
to be known
it stands on its own

life is a cosmic joke

water sits in untouched cups
the walls are reflecting white
the dust floats past my eyelashes
just visible in the paintbrush light

ice is drawn across my skin
rush hour has a start
a horse above the kitchen sink
when will my mind depart

the sun is on our side this time
a blanket on the grass
a dragon joins the picnic
with a paper cast

the barbed wire carries a bird
with the whips of curiosity
the taste of mint and Sunday's smell
a struggle with verbosity

a note cannot be made you see
until the cat has gone to church
but faded gloves and gardening
only serve to disturb

peter likes his hair done up
he doesn't care for pines
and when the message is received
the cat returns and whines

the tongue of flavored pineapples
is not of well bred taste
the journey to the wooden arch
is horrendous and done with haste

taste and journey go hand in hand
in bowls of purple flowers
then tones are harsh and music loud
the dragon has the power

green tea sits in a hot blue mug
while hands grasp at the breeze
a jar is mentioned in passing
and the currency becomes cheese

confessions are softly spoken
across pillows by broken voices
love admitted and promises made
this is how we made our choices

"are you awake?"
she whispered
to my almost lifeless corpse
as if it were a question
as if for all the world
I could sleep
over the sound of her quickly beating heart
"awake"
I replied

"good"
she mumbled
with the quiet satisfaction of a cat
as if it were her own small triumph
that against the sound of her rising breath
and the falling of mine
sleep couldn't be bothered to fight
"what's the matter?"
I replied

"what if the drugs aren't the problem"
she said
too loudly for my grated senses
but too softly for me to understand
for if drugs were not the reason
for the emptiness in our eyes
and the gaps visible between skin and bone
the holes in our clothes and our social skills
then what in gods name was
"what do you mean"
I replied

"what if the sober are lost on the inside
as we are lost without"
she said with a raspy voice
as if she was proving a point
I thought of my mother and all of her friends
their small sober minds
their existential questions
we did not ask where we came from
or where we go when we die
because we know
we've seen it
was this quiet drug addict
lying across my chest
with her soul in her hands
she was
"I think you're right"
I replied

"I think so"
she said
with a quick coy smile
as she lit up two cigarettes
and handed me one
justifying ourselves and our ways
that's all that we do anymore
its how we get by
its how we can steal cheat and lie
without a morsel of remorse
stuck in our yellowing teeth
"oh god this is how we die"
I replied

I did not know
until you turned around
you had the perfect ***
forgive me
for not falling in love
with your face
or your conversation