Disparate Thoughts Regurgitated from a Post Election Partum

Should you stop crying? New fault lines have been drawn. Salt laced tears soft shoe their way down puffy faces, blush red, tarnished brown, milky white, imitating punctured balloons falling from dew filled clouds. Downspouts pour out their vestige, spilling their engorged guts. The election is over. Should you stop crying? In harmonic are the next four years. Know this, retread tires will transport you across new fault lines. Yes, there is condensation on your windshield. Turn on your windshield wipers. Find a sweet-smelling dry rag and remove distain. Your experience will be far from vain. Nightfall is coming. Who knows what will happen to the moon’s old glow, given the sun’s refusal to shine. Yes, wolves will howl. They’ve never been the death of anyone, just nations. Can you wear a smile? Will it be distinguishable from your frown? Clenched teeth are a bit difficult when needing to read emotion. Let warm palms gently caress your face, reminding you it isn’t over until it’s over, given how inharmonic the next four years will be. Might there come a nuclear winter. Might we be dead already.

 

© emmett wheatfall