Green Promise 63 x 47,5 cm acrylic on paper |
MUST
EVERYTHING DROP?
Dude, I
would make over that thinning
Rasta mop if
I were you, I mean,
the whole
Jamaican thing, if you
ask me, is
so thirty years ago. And it’s no news
that your
pecs are heading south, fast,
are in need
of additional support.
Must
everything drop? Collapse? Wither? When
was the
last time
a lovely
apparition on a train platform
saw you as
an object of desire, obscure or otherwise?
When was
the last time
you felt even
a twitch of ambition, that
all
consuming
what the
hell
I’m doing
this thing
feeling
that
exhilarates, excites, deepens
all of
life?
Let me
guess: it was just before
you took
two Alka Seltzer and tottered off to bed.
In the
dream that always comes back
you tuck
the girls in with
a good
night kiss on their smooth, shiny foreheads.
Then maybe
an angel starts to sing.
Or is that
Linda Ronstadt?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.