A Poem by Chuck Paris

A Flight to Forgiven Fruit: Monogamy.

When given the chance to shout,
I speak soft whispers into the ear of doubt.
When told that love lives in a building,
I burn it down because Love is not a home.
Love is an airplane that soars over the bullshit.
When it lands it stays in its home port,
Destined to retire its wings.
My whispers enter the ear of my love,
Begging for the talk to become reality,
Hoping for a taste of real.
Hoping for a tree that bears the fruit of good and evil.
Because who knows if Adam would've had to stay with only Eve,
If the serpent never coerced them?
My airplane only has one pilot.
It has no passengers.
When it reaches its port,
It hopes air traffic control lets it land.
Then Eve and Adam can atone for their sin...


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