Tuesday, March 21, 2017


It's money silly, not the guy.
The new flowers have been
planted along the tourist
promenade, so now they can
come from wherever they wish 
to see their man there. Oh, so
nothing like Indiana like this?
The one time I was in Ohio I 
wanted to just drive right 
through to bring me to there,
where they water their pillows,
I hear, with their tears.
I should have been famous by
now, at least I always figured  -  
it's like when you see the future
you're imagining, it's somehow 
always from the past. And then 
what good is all that to you? I
don't know how that stuff happens,
bit I've always felt cheated, see.
Here's an entire new language I've 
created, and ways of seeing and 
saying to  -  but what do I get? Some
slow-jealous words from a half-wit
shrew or a master at doing what editors
claim to do : take down your project
and burn, guard-dog; burn it.
The last parade that went through this 
town  -  last May, I think it was  -  was
on fire; everyone's tails were burning
and even the firetrucks within the
parade were all lit and couldn't do
anything then about it. I love fires
like that, and parades too. All those
fat and flabbergasted people, gaping
and wondering at what they should
do. Run home with the May Queen,
if you want to know; run home with
the May Queen is the way to go. I'm
an old man, but I still fall in love  
each day; well, if I'm not old yet,
 I'm well on my way.

No comments: