American Dream
We were such special people then,
the two of us, flying high above the rest
like the arrogant angels we saw
playing way above the clouds.
We could almost touch them
with our arms outstretched,
as we danced our way through
a cinemascope of endless possibilities.
But other people were unimpressed.
They had no wish to touch the angels,
or reach the stars, even if they could.
They looked down towards us, not up,
fulfilled and sacred to each other,
with a specialness unknown to us.
We did not hear the soundtrack of their voices.
Did not see the fractures of their dreams,
or of ours to come.
But now we have become the rest
and know that we were not so special then.
But just practicing for a life that would elude us
as dreams remained dreams in cinemascope.
Dreams which became decayed imaginings
growing dusty with time and fading,
as ordinariness reclaimed us and the angels let us fall.

First published in Amomancies, Americana Issue, 2015



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