The Barbecue and Other News
it's beautiful, the whole dam business,
the circle, the new and distant friends,
the words formed, which blow away;
like Zeek and Ike and Calloway;
and the dark sky, rests; and I
find a jilted tree, not far from the buzz,
and the busy blue-breezed, hussy; the
chicken on the step, persisting its
gibberish neck;
but, heavy in eye, I melt into the lavatory;
with its pirouetting flies, and dark satanic
skies, of cracked vermillion tiles;
nonetheless; this is my life; thank you for
the friends, the words, and my wonderful wife;
the sweet afternoon-wind kisses, my old locks,
and spent near-misses;
and; the quality, rhyming-time ;
and I can’t disguise my reprise, my dread-locked
naked smile, and goatee-spilling beard, latching on
to the fertile, busy-breeze, and its warm fertile ease.
but despite all this; I’ll wait; I’ll wait for the borrowed
lies, the perky anchor’s, version of the news;
treated, trusty lemon skies?
I’ll wait:
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