Dirty Little Secrets

If wishes were horses

we’d all take a ride and possibly this time

we could cum inside

without picking up a VD-in-the-box

or a latent addiction we just can’t detox.

Mind, body, soul, heart, head and feet deep

in a concrete complication of humiliation and revelation,

pushed off bridges that cross

dreams, desires, expectations . . .

Only to land in reality where we sleep with the fishes.

But who can sleep with the noise

of bombs overhead

dropping charges of illumination into

each and every head

Casting shadows of scattered bones

that litter floors of our closets

fears placed on display like the Vegas night desert -

psychotic

Riotous images of

things left unsaid.

Things we wish were undone

resonate in our heads - but

let us pause to give thanks that only Pandora has the key to . . .

recriminations and capitulations

discriminations that inhibited associations.

Humiliations that induced devastation

prevented cross-pollination, & stopped maturation

of our stunted souls – our God's creation.

As we view them through the keyhole of an air-tight little box

reminders of the past the price we pay when we unlock.

The reminiscing turns broad highways into vicious stumbling blocks

with ghosts of roads not taken swarming round our heads in flocks

while blows of our poor choices rain around our heads like rocks.

But it is said that every virgin stoned has a chance to receive paradise

So we wish . . . hoping that God will swoop down

One big duex et machina with a

Diamond in the back . . .

Sunroof top . . .

Diggin’ the scene with the ability to save all us virgins

Yet though we sacrifice our happiness

on altars of regret

our acts bring no absolution

because we won’t let go of our

dirty little secrets.