brass diving bell

when i was a child
that still clung
to the notion that
was an adventure
filled with excitement
fraught with peril
and in the end
the hero found true love
i imagined
a great brass diving bell
that would take me
below the surface
where i would walk
along the ocean bottom
in a clunky old suit
with a glass porthole
a long tube
trailing behind and up
into the sun kissed air
there was no thought
of the extreme pressure
cracking the suit
or fear
of hidden dangers
it wasn’t until
i grew up that
the realities of the world
were imprinted
upon my dessicated heart
that life
is a series
of monumental pressures
laced with anxiety
and the dangers
are more than likely
self inflicted
that it was
the endless onslaught
of hells
the loss
the angst and anger
that true love
was as easily
taken away
as breath
by the waves
that we were lucky
if we got a glimpse
our lips turn blue
the last bubbles
to the surface

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