What to call it

What's Next?
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By Emilia and Jody


Unfortunately there are times and seasons
When the death-sucking core machine
Permeates your inner sanctum

It is good to depart this realm of the machine
To indulge the fantacy of being elsewhere
Positively pugnacious, feelings free from strife

There are times when you might sit
In the Pioneer Place Mall in
Portland, Oregon

Expecting to briefly relax
In a dim, comfortable place
Pondering a small theater of ads

Then you are aurally bombarded
Feeling pain, hearing echoes
Plundering your inner securities

We left that place, that secluded theater
In the back of some no-name store
Positively out of reach of our current finances

We saved the day, the date, daintily, disconcerted
Yet enrapured by the closeness we felt in the moment
Poetry to illustrate the deapth of human romance

Desire eats away hunger, and there is a certain indulgence
In the pleasure that is present in both beings of this relational union
Pressing fortune against fortune as they walk through the mall

Happiness, peace, questioning, healing
Death-sucking machine at rest
Post-mortum in the U.S.A.