Submitted by Gary Glauber
You sail that metaphor downstream for as long as you can.
You pull the craft toward where the baby elephant plays.
Your parents would want to know every salient detail
but you’re not about admit to the overall lie.
You swim over, seeking comfort and diversion,
but your soft whisper barely disturbs the humid air.
You see the big willow from the recurring dream,
weeping for the world’s innocence and beauty.
The starlings darken the sky en masse
and tell you there is no future in this fantasy.
You lose your grip, start sliding below,
call out to Charon for the next trip across.
This is how it goes with rented suspicions
and you’ll pay extra for clean sheets,
musing on the peaceful panoramic vista
until you realize what you began to suspect.
The voice sounds a little throaty,
rueful reflection a little too unfamiliar.
Your parents would not approve:
this is not even you.
About the Poet
Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, teacher, and former music journalist. His two collections, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press) and Worth the Candle (Five Oaks Press), and a chapbook, Memory Marries Desire (Finishing Line Press), are available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and directly from the publishers.