Your tears are like champagne;
They cost more than you like to admit in polite company
And they're saved for the most special of occasions.
Every drop is to commemorate a monumentous event
(even if the event isn't immediately obvious to the rest of us).

When we were together I never got closer than hearing the bubbles fizz below the surface.

When we broke up you popped the cork and showered everything in sight with alcoholic nothingness.

My tears are like, well, water;
Not in that you need them to survive
But in that they are inescapable.
My fragility (or childishness) is evident in leaking taps
And dripping branches
And 80% of my biological make up.

When we were together you drank nothing but saltwater sadness.
shame, joy, surprise, every emotion warranted another glass of water.

When we broke up my tear ducts popped like two water balloons and nobody was surprised, they had already opened their umbrellas and taken a precautionary step back.

If they had stood a little closer, opened their mouths a little wider, they might have caught the fleeting taste of bitter wine and the closest I have ever come to crying champagne tears.

My sun-scorched back tingles pin-point waves of, not quite pain--distress--as I settle back onto this memory-stained slab of concrete.
Puffing on a dark-green American Spirit, I relax, taking stalk of the monumentous armada above.

Letting go of all focus from my vision in an attempt to take in the world summons forth an arrayed troupe of points
Though, they're not that, per se, more like minute splashes along the clouds' surface.
They don't remain stationary for long.
Suddenly aware of an audience, they get the show rolling.
Center stage, a forceful spiral forms, slowly whirl-pooling the others
Gravity's on theirs ***** now, they get close, slingshot, rinse and repeat.
Individual groups pinch together and blow apart.

The performance humbles me, forcing me to take responsibility for my actions,
For straight A's popped,  
Living wills written on concrete slabs, while puffing a light-green American Spirit.

The wind howled after the divorce,
debris flew about in hordes
and I simply couldn't hold my myself in place.
Sure, I learned to navigate treacherous terrain
with sure-footed grace,
Everyone around weathered the winds
with the same style, same half smile,
all saying, "It will just be just a little longer."
Years after I'd given up, become numb to the rain,
you walked by with an umbrella,
on your way somewhere, seeking more permanent shelter.
You stopped and offered for me to join you
under the umbrella's cover,
even though it was a tight squeeze for two.
Gentle, powerful, miniscule, monumentous,
I love you.

They call it Ladder Country
From whence a new Babel grew
Ascension to space so that the race might continue
The Ladder stands monumentous, to deliver up the sundry
Our planet's health declined and such this was our plan
The Cabinet's decision ultimately to save
The human race's extinction, perpretually delayed
We deliver starseeds as woman and as man