Another bad back blues day
Vacuuming with a cane to stay upright
But at least I am upright
Cleaning the bathroom mirror hoping for a better
Image
But this not so beautiful mask looking back
At me from beyond
Seems old and beat-up and ugly and sagging
But at least my insights are perfect
Old joke
Stepping outside for a smoke
Someone has taken my beer-bottle ashtray
I hope they don’t try and drink it
The ice crystals on the mudflow
Reflect the early morning sun
Silvery shiny coat flecks on the dark dead dirt
Not the Jack Frost of childhood playing patterns
On the windows creeping across the glass
Our windows to the world
Full of optimisms
I remember the safety cone protecting the pothole
Road crews come out once a week to check it
Making sure that the cone is still safe
Maybe it’s chooky day on the African continent
Poor chookies are being trampled and crumbled
By herds of us heading in some direction
With no cones to protect them
I can no longer cry out in pain
Just whimper
Oh well, time to scrub the floors
At least I don’t need a cane to do that
I’m closer to the ground in so many ways
I hope that damn rodent doesn’t see his shadow
But I hope the same thing every year
And after all what is there if there is not hope
Well, maybe a cold beer on a hot day
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
"Old Joke"... indeed. I really identify with the sentiments unearthed in this one. I think there's more chookye in all of us than we dare confront. At least you realize it and have come to grips. Some of us never do...
A lovely chookye mention, but don't dare talk about that darned critter in Punxsutawney. You know, I live close enough to go and beat him up. He's just in a nearby county here in PA. I could go and crush him like a chookye...
Well just watch out for the pothole Jo. They moved the cone so it's hard to tell where it is. Harry, you's bad!
Post a Comment