Blue Gelato 41


Karl’s feet are cold

the kind of chill

that tightens tendons,

and curls ligaments;

a deep aching

gnawing into bone,

tearing at flesh

feeling like a cartoon penguin

crying ice-cube tears,

Karl raises a hash pipe

to an upside-down smile

flicks his Zippo®

the flint lightning strike

leaving impressions

in drooping blood-stained eyes

reminding him of something

he can’t quite place;

a deer in the headlights

kind of thing

a paralyzed memory

consumed by flames

ravaged by time

or some shit

it doesn’t matter

nothing does

inhaling particle-blue textures,

digging into the pine

and earthy groove,

feeling the warm love

branching into sapling lungs

straining and tight

his Dizzy Gillespie cheeks

succumbing to the pressure

of a bent trumpet release

exhaling a tired catharsis

of resignation


© Christopher Raine