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Yours In The Struggle by Leslie Bridges-Kemp Intent upon perfecting this painful pursuit of happiness, I sadly announce my engagement to a confirmed pedophile who is desirous of a large family with a cabin in the mountains, and a precocious baby girl who shall pronounce her first words as �Da-da� and despise the blind, pregnant mama who hastily prepares a meal of spaghetti and meatballs on a shoe-string budget in the fall. Nobly desiring perfection and conforming to a cruel imperfect reality, I invent a delusion of grandeur and spend my last dry-blood penny on a pair of diamond earrings at the five-and-dime store; I spend my final precious moments content in the shadow of your smile and soar to the mountaintop as I whisper to my demon, who champs at the bit of a holy bridle, bidding him be patient for I am so small. Tiny petals of saffron-yellow and mimosa-orange conspire to dance like dandelions sent spinning on an errant breeze influenced by one careless breath in the sullen dark. The melancholy silence abides as the smell of yeast baking in the ovens of mute scions causes the ancient and brooding bread to rise to the occasion and we, like sailors, debark on an uncharted course in defiance of fear, adamantly heeding the Byzantine clarion call. |
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