Pacified Across The Atlantic

Among the pissed off, piss drunk, priestly and frantic;
Cheers, tears, toasts, fear.
Rivalries and revelry.
Brave, save for the second chance she had.
So in the swells of a Venetian lagoon
at least the moon was by our side,
if but a sorry guide.
No vicious tides but
the crying eyes in public
and private
could have filled the canals.
All friends,
pals,
for now.

Subtleties and subliminal need;
fluidity seized
and we’re back to a standstill.

A gentle pill in the rolling hills of Tuscany —
anxieties erased easily in capsule form,
avoiding a storm to spite what was imbibed.
It’s almost holy how it held together,
helium expanding in a balloon
but soon, a wrinkled husk,
a sinking star against the dusk — gone before dawn
and who will remember?

The allure of love exchanged in hugs — hopeful.
Planted, a weed amongst the seeds
but who’ll reap what’s sown?
What was to see is already shown
and we’re fallible. Not a saint amongst us,
just us.

How I stood still is a secret, sleeping
where we all partied ’til dawn.
Not strong or stable,
but a rock to rest upon.
We’ll never all get along —
for the distance, for differences set in stone,
for the sake of our own happy homes.

Pacified across the Atlantic
on a makeshift highwire line;
The prize for the last left standing
was unwillingly mine.