Poem: If tomorrow

If tomorrow
the world ends, as so highly advertised
by those who prophesied, and those who lied,
and lastly, finally,
those who cried

then (nothing) I wake (I’m wide awake) like today, the same as yesterday

If tomorrow,
I listen to the rooster crow,
at the appointed time, the rising sun at the root of the crime,
in the darkness, I also hear the chime
of a single bowl
as she sits in meditation

then breakfast with mouths full, the regurgitation of the chaotic fake news that hasn’t changed,
we find the world’s rearranged

If tomorrow
the grass looks greener
than it has before, and the stories at bedtime
seem like the run-of-the-mill lore
and the nanny government sounds like
the fabric of time just tore

then I was awake peeling back my blankets aching for the curtains to open that I could not reach,
yet I desperately tried

If tomorrow
I drove to Cheyenne all by myself
while reading my favorite book from off the dusty shelf
turning the pages just to see crystal blue skies above the blur of fields,
an imaginary grand wizard and tiny elf
but unlike the fiction, in a mushroom cloud
the city was gone, like burgers and fries,
dribbles of ketchup in my eyes

then I threw the plaid Scotty’s wrappers to the car floor, stopped and got out,
deciding to walk, my lungs coughed out in a blaring wild shout

If tomorrow
a mother gave birth to me
again, and again, life after life, in which I thought I was free
in the order of children, I was third and three
though less than blind, I couldn’t see
reciting and rhyming the words (in this poem) until you might agree
that you’re wrong, left and right, like a topsy-turvy boat
out at a frothy, stormy green sea

then you toss anchor in the calm purple waters the size of a polka-dotted universe
where the ocean laps like a fine breed, from a manufactured storm seed,
finding such peace and still savoring the taste of early morning coffee

If tomorrow

You are gone
You are alive
You are done
You thrive
You feel me, and I you

then I know for sure,
then I know,
in my drum beating engorged heart,
beating out loud (so loud) for the world to see

there is love.

Published by: frankmarquezwritings

I'm a writer, and have been for most of my adult life. Without making this sound like a resume, I wrote creatively in college, dabbling in poetry, short stories and play writing. Later, I became a journalist, public affairs specialist, copy editor and eventually a guy who ran his own newspaper. Now, I'm back to letting my imagination run wild in some new creations including a science-fiction novel. Somehow, I also managed to teach English to high school kids, and roam the battlefields of Afghanistan as a field historian. Field historian may be a misnomer considering all I did was write abstracts summarizing military unit profiles and missions that included hundreds of interviews of troops and contractors in combat. I grew up in a small town called Gering, Nebraska, before escaping to Pomona, California, where I spent my last two years of high school, graduating from Ganesha High School in 1983. I have a Bachelors in English from the University of La Verne (1987), and a Masters in Education from UNLV (2007). In between, I worked for government - the Army and TSA. I served tours in Panama, D.C., and Tokyo, all thanks to a teacher who encouraged me to see the world before I settled down. As hobbies, I run, hike and bicycle long distances. I have also been known to surf and ski. I now live in my hometown after moving back in June 2015. I get to see family on a regular basis, breath fresh air, and not have to ride the D.C. metro or get stuck in traffic. In fact, I ride my bicycle whenever I can. I'm happily married to my wife Lisa, and we watch over a pack of fur babies, our dog Charley, and three cats Spike, Bootsy, and Franky (his shelter name). If you should ever visit me in west Nebraska, be prepared to feast your eyes on paradise.

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