aztec calendar

stumbling through our days
we approach the end of the aztec calendar
and we're all going down


a brilliant light of
tangerine and pink
the end of the world looks just like a cocktail from the poolside bar

if i could be assured
that what happens here
would stay here

i might stray beyond the lines

it's not as if i believe in a
judgment day
and anyway my crimes are not so great:

piled up across from me
they cannot weigh more than
an orange-beaked finch or a small hand grenade

comparable i assume
to the weight of the deeds
done by every girl in my bracket

ruled more be desire than duty,

these are after all the heady days of my youth meeting their technicolor demise

(high on a monument
all lined up to meet
some vibrantly plumed deity)

i only hope he does not physically pull out my beating heart,

mercy, mercy, from the age old tradition!

i prefer the quick blow, the scalding cacophonous explosion,

i'll go out singing,
disappear into the dissolving panorama...