The curtain falls
you can hear the crowd cheer,
your heart beats a protest,
but your mind has already been made.
It is time for the import,
while mother snaps a photograph.
Your dress sparkles in that photograph,
somehow your smile falls.
There among us is the import.
Inside you cheer.
It’s true you’ve got it made.
No one can really have a protest.
Yet inside your mind only you still protest.
Because upon a glossed photograph.
There you are alive and made.
Right before she slips and falls.
Right before they begin to cheer.
Right before they see an import.
Something illegal upon an import
something no one could EVER protest.
Something no one would ever cheer.
Because of a simple photograph.
At that moment everyone falls.
Because they never had it made.
Do they really not have it made?
So they don’t ever truly import.
But instead the apple falls.
And every heart holds a protest.
No one smiles on the photograph
someplace where you can’t hear the cheer.
But in my heart I want to hear the cheer.
To know that they all have it made.
Smiling upon a shining photograph.
Rejecting the unwanted import.
Leading that a joyous protest.
Where no one else has anymore falls.
All of the cheers, leaving the import.
All that is made, right before the next protest.
Take the photograph, and take the falls.