RED EYE FLIGHT TO MEDIOCRITY

attention all passengers/ please fasten your seat belts and return your trays to their upright position/ we will be flying the skies alone tonight/ through the dark clouds into sure mediocrity/ do not ask why/ there is no rhyme or reason here/ we just float along/ cheersing our alcoholism to desperation/ we comb through the skies like we’re looking for something/ but all flights are destined for the same location

i ask you this/ take a minute to look out the window/ see the man-made wings that lift us above the graves of our ancestors/ see these lights that shine through as we travel at night alone/ the children have all fallen asleep/ the lights inside the cabin have all been dimmed

i can’t help but notice the cabin pressure/ these molecules between us that fill in the distance/ i can’t help but wonder if this is where i’m supposed to be/ if this is who i’m meant to be/ out here in the middle of the ocean/ we have no radar to guide us home/ out here in the middle of the ocean/ we are at the whim of god/ as we approach the edge of the western world/ we fear that maybe there are no worlds left to conquer/ some monster of the sea just waits to break our vessel in two/ some devil clings to the ceiling of our airplane/ the edge is sharp and the sky is breaking/ the channels are changing themselves and the world is imploding and exploding at the same time

the world is imploding and exploding at the same time

for those of you visiting, enjoy your stay/ for those of you who live here, welcome home

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “DEAD POLAR BEAR”

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DEAD POLAR BEAR

I walked home the same way everyday. Today was no different. Two blocks from my house, driving would be insanity. Every day I noticed the liquor store and the bikini-clad girls holding giant beer bottles. You know, those cardboard cut-out advertisements they make. But today, I noticed the dead polar bear in the middle of the street.
I live in Florida. And there was no doubt in my mind that there was a dead polar bear in the middle of the intersection of Cross and Main. Cars were lined up like frozen ants. A long, long line. How the hell does that happen?
A construction worker came by. Took one disbelieving glance at the thing and said “We have to move it.” I said no. I said there is no way in hell you are moving that polar bear from out of the middle of the road. He just repeated in his dumbass way “We have to move it.” I wasn’t the fighting type but if this guy and his dumb fucking orange vest was going to try to move that polar bear, the thing that took my wandering eyes off of the beer-holding cardboard broads, then I was willing to fight him. There were a lot of people lined up like ants with a lot of places to go and I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I was desperate.
I found myself walking to the middle of the street and lying down on top of that polar bear. I felt its fur. It was icy. It was real. Fifteen minutes later, I felt handcuffs being placed on my wrists. They were icy and real too. But I had my fifteen minutes. And I never have to walk those two fucking blocks home again. I never have to fantasize about plastic beer girls again. And I will never be the orange-vested douche-bag who everyone expects to play hero. No one expects anything from the guy who tried to save the dead polar bear.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “(PAUSE)”