Monday, March 16, 2015

The Perilous Night


In the movies, the Wurlitzer seduces the howitzer,
but how often does real life redeem this?

I've been told to limit my remarks on this topic;
they all but swallow themselves, anyhow.

No wonder word-peddlers more notorious than I
are "wont" to "ply" their "wares" in my "vicinity."

It's not unreasonable to dismiss them as mere actors,
sad strivers with no more relevance to

our scrambled lives than the cloud I halved
and exposed for your viewing pleasure

one fine morning, long ago. Still, it never
hurt anyone to call for a stiff drink to go

along with a proportionately stiffer breeze.
You must sit as still as you can then,

yet take care never to get anywhere
in regard to the big questions:

The chicken is reluctant to surrender
documents the egg deems essential to its case.

Once again, without consulting me,
dusk is out the door, getting busy.

My thought-bubbles gurgle. Time is ticked off.
In some suburban driveway, a dog parks.

No comments:

Post a Comment