Child's Play: Two Masked Men Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

There were two masked men that swallowed a chimera
In such a delusional haze, they were the phantoms of the opera.
The man who was taller and had a dagger-like nose
Carried in his hand, a vivacious rose.

”This to my love.” He uttered silently.
Ah, to her love, he said gracefully, subtly, eloquently.
He saw her love dressed in a mauve gown
That had the macabre of the skies that frown.

But it was not her love that gyrated underneath the discotheque.
For she did not wield the familiar perfume, and her skin was not flecked.
He waited anxiously, as that restive rose dies out in hand.
Hours lost upon emptied glasses, he crumpled the rose and cursed at the band.

His love did not arrive
The skies are skived
The trees are silent,
And the mendaciloquence is evident.

The other masked man was shorter
But still carried the scent of a snake charmer.
He kept in his pocket a pack of cigarettes
And garnished himself with such misanthropic etiquette.

A lady offered her a dance and said,
”Dear man, aren’t you the prolific writer! I am Mildred.”
She offered her hand and the man behind the mask stood still.
”I’ve no time, lady.” He stormed away in such a rampant will.

He headed straight to the orifice of the discotheque
A group of savage men said, “Where are you going? Why such in a mad wreck? ”
The masked man cursed at the strobe lights and fled,
”These people are way into their heads.” He nonchalantly said.

By the alley, the shorter masked man lit his cigarette
As he was standing in between the alley walls, he noticed a man as he frets
”Who are you? ” The short masked man asked with askance.
The man slurred, ”Fine man, do you have a lighter, by any chance? ”

The short masked man reached for his pocket
And he realized that the tall man was teeming with a rivulet
Tears sprawled from his eyes, the shorter man had said
”Well, it seems you are in trouble. How about a fix for your head? ”

”I know a bar not far from here.” The tall masked man had said.
”Mad Tony’s, I suppose. Come now.” The short masked man led
The way towards Mad Tony’s. He asked, “What were you doing there? ”
The tall man said, “Waiting for my rose to come to a flare.”

”Aren’t you the prolific writer who wrote for himself? ”
The man with the rose asked and said, “I have one of your books on my shelf.”
The small man grinned a sinister one and said,
”I’m Thomas. There’s a story in you that needs to be read.”

The bar was open and filled with the patrons,
They removed their masks as their eyes were emblazoned
Like the stars in the skyline. Thomas said, “What’s your name? ”
The tall man said, “I am Charlie. I feel enthralled about your fame.”

”What fame? ” He sipped his whiskey demurely,
Charlie lit a cigarette of his own and said out of perplexity
”They love all of your books out there! They’re like prophecies! ”
And Thomas said, “That’s like saying, they drank all the water out of my seas.”

”What are you doing in the dark, holding a dead rose? ”
Thomas asked Charlie, as if a king waiting for repose.
”Waiting for a lover to arrive at the door,
But then perhaps, ardor does not burn forevermore.”

”And what were you doing, smoking alone by the alley-way?
Don’t you know that they were looking for you at the soiree? ”
Charlie asked Thomas like a cat that purrs of curiosity.
”I need no one to fill me. To myself, I am a mad party.”

A frenzied jousting of minds and wisdom
Have rendered these men, alive in such freedom
To find heaven in all the broken places
Finding life rid of all the obscure names and faces.

”Who pays the bills? ” Charlie asked as it was already dawn.
”Let me pay, Charlie.” Thomas had said as his eyes slurred in mad visions.
”Here, I’ll pay half of the bill.” Charlie said like they knew each one before.
Thomas wailed in a raged fury and said, “To hell with money. Let’s drink some more.”