Tom Maguire never felt at home <br />on the spot where he stood <br />until his final attempt at flight <br />huddled in a pool of blood without deliverance. <br />Now his wasted cut wrist rested on his lap <br />and Jennie O’Connell kissed the wound <br />and Tom wept. <br />Suddenly the July 4th explosives in Coney Island <br />turned the heavens into fantastic tumbling rainbows. <br />“That’s some mighty spectacular fireworks, ” said O’Connell <br />“puts me in mind of the time when I drank lighter fluid.” <br />“How’d it taste? ” I asked. <br />“Don’t recommend it, not really <br />years ago, when I was wild <br />I also drank nail polish remover, <br />and nail polish for that matter <br />started swooping through the stars, <br />counting ‘em, <br />one by one, <br />till I got to three hundred thousand <br />took me about four minutes <br />then I finished off the can of fluid <br />and all of a sudden I got it into my head <br />to have a smoke. <br />You can imagine the kick I got. <br />When I woke up my ass was smoking. <br />I mean smoking. <br />Of course the hair on my head was toast <br />and on the sand in front of me <br />I seen the words: ‘Don’t try that shit no more.’ <br />And under that the word: ‘God.’ <br />Now I don’t drink lighter fluid no more, <br />nor count the stars <br />because that’s God’s business. <br />How many? How far? Where’d they come from? <br />All we gotta do is stare at ‘em <br />and feel the wonder. <br />If we can do that we’ll be OK.” <br />Maguire, still with tears <br />held out his ragged wrist <br />whispering, “When will the torture end? ” <br />The fabulous blasts higher than heaven now <br />earth-shattering <br />I couldn’t hear O’Connell <br />only see yet another kiss <br />into the scar.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/high-above-the-treacherous-and-shifting-ground/
