MY SIDEWINDER MISSLE
IS UNDER THE STARS
Here I am, under the nighttime sky, distressed as all get
out for everything that ever was - as if any of it had to
do with me, as if I was an integral part of anything at
all. I feel the way that old man feels, dropping his pretzel
covered with mustard, while sitting on a bench and having
to figure out what to do now : pants all stained and bright
yellow with mustard. Enough to make one angry.
This is the way it was supposed to be. I was supposed to
have everything work out, for me, and in my favor.
Leastways that what they'd told me, all those creeps in
school who suckered my meager face into having faith.
Nothing like that again. I watch the trees now, for birds
above dropping their stuff down on me, for branches
that fall and maim and kill. I eat my ice cream cone
fast, before it can begin to melt on me. My luck,
my adverse and pestilenital luck, Goddamn.
There's an hour before dawn I love. And, kind of
another at dusk that lingers - a long, drawn out
time of early Summer's dwindling light. Yeah,
I could live in that forever.