Ramble Around the Foundry
It’s been a day, brother, it’s been a day.
I’m ridiculous for lack of content,
All my plot holes are on display.
Am I doing OK? Am I having a day?
I can’t get a call back. I sat on a thumb tack.
It woke up my skinny white ass.
I’m mad in the morning. I’m angry afternoons.
I’m ornery as hell. I’m bloody pissed, as well,
And sick of the puddler’s stupid drama:
“We’re down by the bow and headed for the bottom.
There’s gonna be a ruckus, boys, so smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”
Good lord, it’s just clinker and slag.
All the king’s horses are slovenly nags.
Nothing but losers and misfits
Posing as rakes and roues.
Like red beans in chili con carne
Causing gas bending over the blarney.
I re-organize the hectic and recognize the stone.
And yet, because my truss work was contrived
Of wrought iron, rather than steel,
It resisted corrosion while exposed to the storm.
Though I’ve been ghosted and gas-lit,
Led around like a halfwit,
I still miss Jenny Wren’s chrysanthemum smile,
And I'll always have a thing for Amber Rose.
So, I’m mailing my love to Azerbaijan.
Baka, Baku, it isn’t Shikoku,
But it sometimes makes me smile.
And I thank my clerestory windows,
They let in the light and vent out the heat,
Affording me the grace to do my job.
Copyright ©
Michael Kalavik
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