The Wireless Monkey
The wireless monkey plunged to his death
on a Thursday morning. I put down my Chardonnay
to grieve. He was seen texting while swinging, hit
a tree and imploded on the information highway. It happens
with regularity. Ironic. But maybe the other jungle animals
will learn a lesson and cover themselves with solitary remorse
for I know they can not see the complexities. My heart has a
tender hook and circles back behind the clouds on stormy nights.
I live my life in insecurity. The blessings come and go, I give my
love on Sun-Down Street in the black of night, on sleepless nights
the lights go on. The rooster on my coffee cup stares at me in
glaring sunlight. What is my strategy I dare not swing and text for
communication can be death.
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