Excel
Posted by Melissa Pavri | Filed under Poetry, Print
crestfallen
sitting in a sea of coffee and tedium
hands
frowning quills
hungering for something worth writing about
i am old world weariness
zipped into high waisted slacks
sunday morning bubbles
burst in my pockets
whatever was left of
saturday champagne fantasy
it’s monday
the week ahead
crushes the small of my back
an all too familiar load that
leaves its depression on my spine
a hypnotic qwerty humdrum
colonizes my fingers
and i begin typing
manic
shackled to the keys
hands ticking
like a bewitched clock
pupils tightrope walking
two invisible axes
through some magnetic field
to a blur of recycled words
and reversed equations
i gawk at the tiny font
on my screen
like a dumb beast
trying to make sense of the world around me
astonishing
how every character pops
in and out of existence
as if it were
just
that
simple
funny mindless little creatures
happy to live in rectangles
i blink twice to make sure i am
still human
still made of flesh
and skin
and soul
i know
this view is skewed
mechanics beyond my control
myopic to the bone
something like
one way tunnel vision
on a yellow desert road
two by two
numbers and nonsense
wake from sleepy trenches
like possessed men and
march across the screen
into an alternate universe
where ideas go to die
this matrix of monotony
and vapid spreadsheets
where the secrets of the cosmos
take on numeric disguise
where everything looks freakishly similar
slipping into cracks
deathly afraid of being greater than something
scared of being significant
until i whisper
fly to the moon
outliers
and take your souls with you
when you get there
free the comet in your chest
so i can follow it to the sky
i will fasten my days
to the backs of fireflies
and wish them
magic migration
to yesteryear
i used to be
wondrous and technicolored
i want to fix this broken mirror
One Response to “Excel”
-
Alysia Harris Says:
September 17th, 2009 at 1:18 pmWHHHHATTTTTTT!!!! RIDICULOUS. OD OD OD. Omg girl, my favorite thing from EP in 8 months. Hands down.
