Reach For The Clouds Poem by Robin Bennett

A girl and her dreams interrupted,
by a screeching nazi alarm clock.
Three thirty a.m. wake up call-
Death camp hours.

Thinking of food causes me
to die a little.
I reach for my own black gold,
totally leaded and mainlined.
Ah, my poor bloodstream-
even leukemia doesn't
stand a chance to fester in
these brutal conditions.

I'm not a middle of the
night type person.
Hard to be cheery
at the witching hour.

So I take a look in the mirror,
the face of truth-
Like a tell all biography,
I repaint on my smile in
"undeniably nude"

Not much I can do about the rest-
Now the outside, matches
the inside. Twins once again.

Caffeine high-
and scattering around like a crazed
postal assassin, any imagined cool
I desperately clung to,
went flying out of the ozone layer in
a matter of seconds.

Trapped in that tin can in the
sky, kidnapped on the winds-
I remember when our love said
climb, climb, reach for the clouds.
Suddenly we were left on a final
bumpy approach without our landing
gear in place.