Walking through the reassembled streets of Atlantis

I still feel the ghosts of aftershocks tickle my feet,

but 3600 years have muted the screams enough

that I can enjoy a glass of wine and a romantic view.

Matter and anti-matter long ago annihilated one another

to clear the path for bits of left-overs like us to float

through space, heading toward an oblivion that is

softened by sunsets and rainbows and chocolate crepes.

Sailing over the Aegean with Phaedra looking lovely

and watching my weight, blissfully ignorant of the

shades of grey that can choke out perceived certainties

like weeds, as if they were an inconsequential afterthought.

Truth and consequence seem more like estranged cousins

that don’t even get married in the villages much anymore

with stray kisses and inane banter covering the hard fact its

impossible for a person to love another just for who they are.

Dodging treasures on the way back down from paradise

I may be able to climb through a window to undo a mistake,

but these shared memories seem destined to slip into a haze

of disjointed amusing stories that mean nothing beyond me.

Perception and fear nourished by a self serving interference

that claims the sacred duty of smothering all outside

their existent hierarchy, until we are left to live on either

side of a mole hill as if it were an impassable mountain. 

Well, respect is a two way street baby…

- by Steve McKennon, 12/2/09