20 Prayers

If you only have twenty
prayers left,
then go ahead
and do thirty

plus the sacrifice
of an orange
peeled and presented
on a plate of used
titanium steel alloy

from the after market blowout
of 2017

when I was juxtaposed
to the idea of dancing.

I hurt when I am hurt
mostly because love
does not stand curiously by
awaiting our arrival
like a limo service guy
with his airport sign,

your family name
etched upon its surfaces.

The momentum from others' lives,
which we absorb
like darts

through our feet
to the cross roads
of our daily lives
leaves a small portion still
where Elvis screams

from a roof top
and sings,

ooh, laala lala
─ain’t this some world,
──────────────we be livin in
─oooh laala lalala
──────────────ain’t this some world.