The Symphonic Jangle of Childhood Keys

Today

and most likely tomorrow

I feel like Zelda Fitzgerald

splayed in Absinthe defeat no

beneath a beach umbrella

that looks like a just sprouted daisy

planted like a moon flag

in the lunar beach surface of

the Riviera.

In these times of sorrow

when the earth 

and my country 

no longer feel welcoming

or safe

I board

a waiting steampunk rocket ship,

the kind that Jules Verne once imagined

which sits on a launchpad

at the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences…

aimed at

the infinity of quivering stars

which

between you and me,

are secret way stations

where everyone 

we ache to hold

waits for us to come home. 

like our moms and dads…

who once upon a time 

stared through a night wintered window

in the grief-stricken hours past midnight

until they heard

the symphonic jangle of our childhood keys

and breathed

because they loved us that much.