Delicate Red Flower

Delicate Red Flower
© Surazeus
2018 04 30

The delicate red flower grows through the crack
in the hard cement sidewalk like my love
for you cracks my bitter heart with desire.

Though we were married for forty two years,
you are nothing more than this photograph
and flashes of memory in my sponge brain
because all my memories about my life
are leaking out, but you I still remember.

I was just talking to this photograph
of my wife, but now that you have arrived
we can smoke weed like we do every day.

The gentleman who walks by every day
gives me more ripe apples than I can eat
so I am glad to trade apples with you
for a kiss from the lips of Mary Jane.

From this park bench I can see nothing more
than the brown river by pollution sludged
foul as it flows past the steel factories,
but I like the way the yellow sun gleams
through endless gray clouds to flicker gold
on the ever-flowing river of dreams.

I drift in and out of dream-state all day
while I sit alone on my private bench
which is why I like to sit at this spot,
because it is so far away from where
rich people in suits work in towers of glass.

I remember how my mother would bake
apples and peaches with cinnamon spice
in large pies that steamed on the window sill,
and she would always pretend to get mad
when I scooped out bites with my grubby hands.

She always shouted at me, "Wash your hands"
as I ran into the woods to climb trees
and talk to ravens about all the kids
at school who make fun of me because I.

I can see that mountain where I would play
over there across the river where coils
of the electric generator sparkle.

Sometimes the mountain is hidden by clouds
of smoke billowing from factory smoke stacks,
and then I want to go to the small grove
where I built the fort in the old oak tree
to hide from the mean kids who chased me home,
but fatigue makes my bones ache with despair.

I worked as an accountant for thirty years
but one day when my son ignored some rule
I commanded to better run our home,
I just walked out the front door of the house
I finished paying for, and came to this spot,
and I have been sitting here ten years now.

My wife and children all came to see me
and begged me to come home, but I refused
so I am happier now sitting all day
on my park bench, watching the black birds fly,
and listening to the sun shine on the river.

Be careful where you step with those thick boots
because you almost crushed on my red love flower.

Now why did you shoot me, you stupid coward?

The delicate red flower grows through the crack
in the hard cement sidewalk like my love
for the crazy world cracks my bitter heart.