7819. ANNAPURNA

ANNAPURNA

'No, I never knew her, and what did 

you you say her name was, Anna Purna? 

No, no one I knew.' It was getting so very 

late and why should I even bother? Better

just to walk on home, 6 blocks over, and

sit back and sulk once more. The Indian

lights are always on anyway. This bread 

is old and stale, and there's nobody here 

anymore, except stale breath and stale air 

too. A real triumvirate of desolation.

-

I wanted to kill the singer; he'd left already,

but I hate the smug bastards they are. All

that fake posing and propositional stuff.

'I'm white, and I'm blue, and I'm also a Jew,

yeah, yeah, pretend I'm black guy for me 

and for you.' Well, that's all for the sake of

a rhyme, but so what  - suburban kids, always,

and their southern-black-salve-blues rants.

-

Idiots have tokens for the subways. Wise guys

jump the turnstiles. These guitar guys do neither.

They whine until a ride arrives. And then they're

off, probably back to some stupid little job tomorrow,

or to Law School for yet another end-of-term exam.

And I've heard it all and I've heard it a million times too.

'Oh, mama, I'm so blue, what am I a'gonna' do, ooh, ooh?'