She had a hard time with the numbers
In fact, she couldn’t do it at all.
It must have been the time of day
Or the way she wore her hair.
And it’s hard to say who was dumber
Or who looked sillier than who
As we sat on that cold cement slab
In late October –
Watching the leaves fall off the trees
we love to smash ‘em up and love to hear ‘em crash
the pads, the hardwood pins, or bash the leather ball
the timing of those sporting games
appropriate, it grabs us all – such violence
around us without feeling any pain
someone threw a rock and knocked another off a ledge
and soon we all were betting clams on arms and teams
began to form the rocks and clubs were soon outdated though
‘cause also when the snow fell fans got cold
so owners brought the teams indoors for winter
and as the athletes started bowling, playing basketball in fall
by winter hockey brought the fists a flyin’ lots of blood
and fun for all and even racetrack frequenters
are hoping for a smashup will it really go much further
will we soon be watching murder?
Burden not the solitary equine
Willing servant, sumpter of e’erlasting woe
Tribulations tensed and thus so high-lined
Carry that which rightf’ly’s your own
Make not the son some candelabra stool
Nor husband tote contentment all and then
Nor daughter eat the sins of ancient fools
Nor wife protect the vanities of men
What share we may this blessed earth belong
To sing and dance as glad participants
To have and so be had in joyous song
The best of times we know shall never last
So burden not the solitary equine
For sorrow if it choose is only mine
a half baked chicken back
was all i had to eat that day
and when i was walking up the stairs
to take you away for the evening
i heard someone say the sun was coming
out tomorrow . . .
it never showed it snowed
When do my senses get caught up in fences?
When do my thoughts take a trip on their own?
All that I’ve wondered, the thoughts that I’ve pondered
All that I’ve seen, heard or touched all alone
My eyes see a stranger, my nose senses danger
But somehow I’m hearing the words of a friend
The air becomes cool as I sit on my bar stool
Playing another sad game of pretend
Sometimes we smell victory, sometimes a trick
Or follow your nose, move from where you are at
See all that is blue or look into the future
Hear what they’re saying up under their hat
What things seem to be, I often don’t see
Like feeling the fool when I’m winning respect
Or I thought I heard praise as their glasses were raised
But I’m not sure what next to expect
(I don’t trust that pat on the back)
I’ve watched while he preaches, I’ve heard all his speeches
I’ve read of this, that, and the other big deal
My thoughts are confused, is my voice being used?
Concerned about credence – and what I don’t feel
When do my senses get caught up in fences?
When do my thoughts take a trip on their own?
All that I’ve wondered, the thoughts that I’ve pondered
All that I’ve seen, heard or touched all alone
and as a game of pool
becomes a night at the bar
the first chess game
becomes the second
i can neglect the goths,
the franks, consuls and kings
they will remain
but a neglected game of chess
is lost forever
like a hundred times
before today
a poor soul lost his frisbee
smashed to bits
on a city street
dave an’ gary an’ i
buried it
in the sewer
on congress and schaefer
And cups,
a black ashtray sit
together with my button
and do not move.
i sit
and watch
my clothes turning
and the lady,
her girl,
they sit
and watch
me
it has been two years
since that
old blue shirt
has come out
un-wrinkled
and my jeans
are
losing themselves . . . too old
when i am done
when
my shirts are hung
when
my socks are matched
and
my undershorts
are safely tucked
into my laundry bag
i wink at the girl
and leave.
as i roll around to meet
it with my head beneath my pillow
i am trying to forget it
always comes around again
stumbling through the clothes and blankets
scattered on the floor
i reach the kitchen
i look into the outside through the window
see the blanket that has
turned into a mountain on my lawn
i put the kettle on the stove
take out a cigarette but everybody’s gone
saturday in a.m. time
soon turns to afternoon
and i’m not ready for another
run through brew ha ha and everything
that makes the day so great
i will just relax today is what
i always say
i never do
and it’s that second cup of coffee
that puts me on my feet to start anew
and i am fascinated by the way
the dishes pile up
so fast i don’t remember eating
that much food
it was only yesterday i finally got my clothes
back to the washer for a brand new
lease on them and now the dishes need it too
and the mirror is no fantasy on saturday
reality is what is there
it looks me in the eye i am in shock
and all i do is stand and stare
if it wasn’t for the night
before the morning
wouldn’t be so bad and i
could simply rise and shine as if
it was the middle of the week
no i never learn a lesson if
i get knocked down
on a friday i’ll be back
on a saturday to turn the other cheek
The duck, coming over the sheep house,
quacked twice.
“Hello, duck,” flying high
on such a day, so nice
as this.
And he flew on by
to warmer weather south.