If I could fix the world,
Setting straight the crooked man’s twisted words with my iron crow,
I’d wrap my brain around what’s wrong, run him out of town on a rail,
Make it safe for women and children first again,
While he hangs together with his corkscrewed cronies or separately,
A lone gunman, fulfilling his own prophecy, his days numbered,
And I belly up to the bar to hoist a few and toast his good riddance.
Why would I tell you my anger and grief, love, knowing it will only raise red flags?
Worrying for my sound mind and body stooped to his level,
Your chemistry simultaneously repelled and attracted to our strange elixir,
The cure worse than the disease, my fists clenched, bruised haymakers
Flailing to defend the ghost in you, a wispy cloud of smoke my arms can’t wrap around.
You should see the other guy, never walking away from a fight, never talking out of school
About the last man standing, railing at raindrops, my reach outstretched beyond grasp,
Out of insight, out of my element, out of my head, out of words,
Left with only futile grunts, moans, and sighs, drained of charm,
My primal gut gnawing at this empty longing, disarmed by your absent embrace,
My zombie arms search the streets howling for their runaway bride.
