3691. ALL THOSE LINES

ALL THOSE LINES

I'm standing in line in Greenland,

I standing in line in Greece : days blur

by, one thing after the other. Here, 

before me, the Parthenon. Like I care.

Putrid, almost non-existent, a color

of stone I do not wish to bear. Outside

of nothing else, I'd much rather be on 

a small Greek fishing boat, counting my

dollars to donuts in the American way.

-

My mother used to say that: 'dollars to

donuts,' and, quite often as well, she'd say

'I bet you ten to one, blah, blah....' on and

again about something. Strange; as if she

were some gambling hall matron running

a whorehouse on the side. Gone now, 

can't ask her about nothing.

-

My father was a maniac  -  a madman across

the waters. Died crazy as a loon. Frittered away

even his doom, though never knowing it. He was

a happy worker to the end of his days. Then

he cracked. People have all sorts of reasons.

I don't. All I ever see is his shadow stalking 

me. Death takes a vacation? Who said that ?

-

Now, across the land I see, Albania, Bari, 

all those insane places from my past. King Zog,

he ruled Albania for decades. People tried

leaving in droves. Those that were apprehended,

they died - or rather they were killed. Killed by

neglect. Killed by disaster. Killed, again, by

their own putrification. Run across the water,

if you can, to Bari. Anyone would go crazy.

-

Greece. Bullshit Greece. Bullshit cradle

of Democracy. Bullshit Aristotle and Plato

too. Everything's a lie, from beginning to end.

My father's mother, yeah, she died crazy too.