Thursday, January 20, 2011

Meet Me in the City

You know everything I say is wrong
the dusty light under the bed a long brown
hair from who knows when I am stroking
the pillow when we get together
all the people are making everything
all right. I want to be with those people
that make everything all right. Or those
people that seem sure of being able to
change things for the better. Real take charge
people that leave room to breathe in some
light. You can just imagine what my childhood
was like if that's what I desire. My moods
change let's go into the city and watch
some kinds of people doing things in a manner
we will never have the resources or initiative
to do. Shopping for expensive scents like
that's what you do in a nice shirt and pants with
leather shoes. You can imagine how nice
the things are that I am referring to. I'm not
an old blues man. I built a little house from
Popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue. I tasted paste
and generally I can kick a ball far away.
My mind has not changed it has been made up.
Meet me in the city, meet me there, please.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I really like this poem.

3:22 PM  

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