Saturday, January 7, 2017

9051. THE GHOSTS OF HAZARDS PAST

THE GHOSTS OF
OF HAZARDS PAST
This life is an island.
I declare I think it's
sinking. There are 
children everywhere.
Miserable nothing-to-do's
with marbles where their 
pants hang low. Yes, sir,
baby, that's what I wanted
to see, for sure. Your blue
dimpled ass a'running.
-
I've read too many books 
now to remember a 
God-damned thing. They
all went south with my oasis.
The preacher, the postman,
the candle-stick maker, they
each know more than me.
-
It was May, the last time I
was in Elmira. The girls from
Elmira College were painting the
cinder-block shed in Eldridge
Park. We just sat there and 
watched, my dog and me. 
Wondering what this was, 
and what would be.
-
They say too much of nothing
can make a man go insane. We
went over to the Civil War 
cemetery and I kicked a rock.
To Antietam and back; well
it seemed like, anyway.
-
Over in Woodlawn cemetery,
right next door, I sat down again
with old Mark Twain. He didn't
have much to tell me; just said
'everything here's about the same.'

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