Lonely Ride Home

Lonely Ride Home
by peter nezafati
Sometimes you just know when to give it up
The effort seems utterly futile, and all the land is awake to your dismal attempts
She hugged me emphatically, like Judas kissed Jesus, with purpose, with intent, undeniable
There isn’t enough alcohol in the land to burn the evident misstep your about to make
There aren’t enough doorknobs to twist to evade facing you with rooms upon rooms showering your insipid knavery
She knew how to make me subtle, make me innocuous, make me vanish
There was no one to understand him, who felt he could bleed the Earth for her, wrench the heavens for her happiness
He sits now in front of the only world that bade him appeasement, welcomed his unbecomingness
In front of that cold face of plastic, with blaring, bleak, whiteness, ready to accept his garnish
If only her gaze was as receptive as these black characters were to his fragile touch…