The Gasp of Plastic Lips
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
You can lie to me today and tomorrow.
You can lie to me next week.
You can tell me that the sky is cotton candy,
and the strange orbs that you can’t explain
are Christmas decorations.
You can tell me that the grass is made
from silk caterpillars,
and you can tell me those missiles in the air
are only my imagination.
You can tell me what you like,
and you can say whatever you want
for your words are like a dying neon sign
in a run-down alley,
where the bums even refuse to live.