Monday, 14 January 2019

i was right, now i’m left

fleeing the blue screen light
i climb the corroded roof 
a bottle in each hand 
drinking alone up there looking at the south-american desert 
with only the airglow above as company 
frosted stars 
cycle of life 
noise of heavy fans just beside the esa compound 
in the desert night 
i always get sentimental by alcohol

and depressed like hell 
a solar wind like nothing ever experienced 
so i set sail 
down the roof 
weightless for a second by clumsy orbital trim manoeuvres and too much 
i slip and fall on my back 

i was right and now i’m left 
under this body of brilliant stars far from spiked drag queens 
seeing the first rays of sun 
as it rises behind barb wire fence


By: PO Johnson

4 comments:

Jenny said...

Good to see you here, PO. Great and funny poem.

Megan Duffy said...

Interesting, I was just thinking about blue screen, the light that we all have in our palms now, what do we see with it?

I love the spiked drag queens.

Lise Larsen said...

“under this body of brilliant stars far from spiked drag queens”
If you where half of what you are when you are writing I would be saying
Your old sinner. I hope you remain in the desert! You're such a drag!

And as always in an elfish abode, dreams of the gentlest texture. zzzzzzzzzz

po johnson said...

Thank you!