Will The Fun Ever Start?
Squarely
Dovetailed indecisions sit between the two
interlocked and loaded, like a Rubik's cube
teetering between the orange and the blue,
no yellow bricks lining a road to resolution
on the black-and-white vinyl tile floor.
I don't think they're in Kansas anymore.
Suddenly, the kettle goes off, awfully frantic,
chemotherapy-pitch screaming through the tension
metastasizing rampant red over the conversation
about sorting lives into used cardboard boxes,
as if the boxes themselves weren't the answer.
Any corners will cut through the circumstances.
Speed kills, but then again, so does cancer.
Dovetailed indecisions sit between the two
interlocked and loaded, like a Rubik's cube
teetering between the orange and the blue,
no yellow bricks lining a road to resolution
on the black-and-white vinyl tile floor.
I don't think they're in Kansas anymore.
Suddenly, the kettle goes off, awfully frantic,
chemotherapy-pitch screaming through the tension
metastasizing rampant red over the conversation
about sorting lives into used cardboard boxes,
as if the boxes themselves weren't the answer.
Any corners will cut through the circumstances.
Speed kills, but then again, so does cancer.