Sort of a Poem

This is a game

whose rules change as you play.

Did you think I’d have answers?

Me, the fake-poet? I have none.

So fall.

Fall, fall down on your knees.

The buildings in this city

loom over you

like a monster.

So fall.

Fall, fall down on your knees.

And swear to me

that you’ll be different,

that you’ll be better.

Lie to me, if you have to.

Fall on your knees.

(And hey, look, up there.

It’s the sky. That little patch of blue

just visible through the buildings

that you’ve forgotten all about.)

Fall, and swear, and promise me.

That you’ll be different, that you’ll be better.

Lie to me

if need be.

And then do it all over again.