A White Elephant of my own

My very own White Elephant,
               Glass, perhaps. 

If I’m being Ernest,
               I should’ve aborted this ship ages ago. 
               Before I even boarded. 
               At the station. 
               Barcelona to Madrid.
               Waiting forty minutes
               For a two minute stop. 
               And we don’t even know which way the train is going.

But Dos Cervezas
And two Anis del Toro 
Will do that to a person. 

There’s a reason I prefer just Water.
I guess my muscles aren’t strong enough for Absinthe.
But when the water breaks down 
And the parts are left unstable
And explode

And the glass breaks,
And the White Elephant, 
Falls,
               And,
                             Shatters, because that’s what the White Elephant does. 

White Elephants. 
               For what? 
               Why?
               I never did ask for the White Elephants.
               But sometimes you just arrive at the White Elephant party
               And then what? 
               Maybe I did want one?
               Maybe that’s why I showed up to the party?

Please please please please please please please start talking.
               Explaining.
                             Defending.
All we do is look at things and try new drinks.
I love the cosmos but hate those who inhabit her.

Avoiding the elephant in the room.
               Elephants.
                             There’s a whole herd of elephants in the room. 

Have you ever seen a White Elephant?
               No, you wouldn’t have. 
Mirrors can’t look at themselves.

I wonder how the girl felt, 
Was he the first American Man to whisk her to this station?
               He’s known lots of people who have had the operation before. 
Was he the last? 
               Neither she, nor I, know.

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