This Particular Game

Tired. Of this particular game, I say we play
Another game of an entirely different origin
and design.
A. Game. Where. instead of motion and gesture
We create a new language
Formed entirely of words of love.
and wine.

Words of love, you say words of love
Burping, swilling scotch, tipping and pointing
You asshole, you fucking existentialist, don't you know
you ruined my fucking life
in the process of constructing yours? Ouch! My eye!

This is an eyesore, a damned walmart where
trees should be
and I can no longer find my way home.

This geography. This flat landscape.
Within it a damsel with long blond tresses (no victim) whose braids twine around billboards and blocks of gray concrete (a heroine!) snake under highway overpasses (chanting words of love) climb rusted shell oil monuments and twist through foreclosed homes and vacant lots (no one dare climb) scans the nearby hills

Where children wander,
searching for parents who have already disappeared.