11 February 2009

dan provost

December 28, 2008

Felonious my old friend,
It’s been many months since
we have hung around and
shot the shit over everything
and nothing…

Sorry if I sound crass, but
my inner self cannot walk the
steps you walk anymore.

The years of redneck pomp, men
in blue putting me in handcuffs;

punching someone in the jaw…

Has been put away in its celestial burying place.

I want to run with the spirited now…smile,
Look at the three day past Christmas lights
with the simplicity of a young child…

hoping next year’s booty will bring me
a sanguine thought or two

Yes, I am still alone
but not lonely

Three Miles Away

See all the pretty pictures of co-workers spouses and children on their clean, un-soiled desk…

Endearing trap of loving the bland…seeing the family together like a Rockwell coun-try.

Scattered three miles away are those who own no love, or family…or a place to warm their hands.

I see them scattered outside when I walk to my car—loners waiting for the liquor store to open.

Forgotten skin exposed to twenty mile per hour winds.

They have no furniture to place pictures on.

Only a countdown to death and accepting the fact that they are at the mercy of na-ture.

It really is a very short drive…

No comments: