IN THE MANNER
'Irretrievable,' if it is, as they say it is,
leaves out so many things : I want to just
shop in that old record store, diving and
dozing for nothing at all. 'Lightning Striking
Again,' as Lou Christy would have had it,
back in 1966. What a glum chum that was.
It was all about the heart and some winsome
girl of one's dreams. There was nothing better
than that at all; and everyone had one, differently.
From a boy's point of view, I'm talking. I don't
know what girls did. Anyway, this other guy,
the black dude, we called him Sylvester, and
it stuck. Like fame struck fortune too.
Now I'm just the stupid old guy left. A
portion of really bad attitude lingers, and
all that too leaves me bad-off. But old
guys aren't supposed to be that way, so
what do I have to do? Smile in agree'd
on dribble? Nod my yes to everything,
and park only where I'm told to park?
Yes, that's it; in the manner of
Sylvester, park only where told.