stars race across the night sky.
people watch in awe,
admire from afar,
and write songs about it.
but then it crashes and
burns out.
like you and me.
a child at a fair begs for ice-cream.
the reluctant parent gives in,
hands the cashier a few dollars and
the child smiles as he
licks the smooth vanilla from its cone.
licks are too slow and the
ice-cream melts and falls to the ground-
splat
like you and me.
music turned up louder,
playing through headphones.
you jog,
you dance in the kitchen,
and they become essential
to hear all your favorites songs.
you wake up and place them in your ears
only the next day and find
the left ear is static and the right is silent.
broken wires. bad connection.
like you and me.
a brown belt
strong and secure,
takes the weight of oversized guts and
cinching small waits with large behinds.
dependable, you wear it everyday.
a statement of who you are.
too much pull,
leads to broken belt holes;
the metal prong pulling through,
destroying material.
like you and me.
long blonde hair.
curled and styled to perfection,
blown in the wind and still gorgeous.
cancerous cells invade
and all the effort to fix it
makes the hair fall to the floor
in unorganized heaps.
leaving your skull
even when you beg it not to.
like you and me.
everything is like
you and me.