POETRY

 

Good Question


Draped across a throbbing inevitability
lay the debris of the Failed Generation
drowning in ordinary pain relievers
begging for reduced reflections from me:
property miner and proud purveyor
of everything in my culture that POPS
I osmosize from where I lay my head
like the rest of my tribe
who even underline that which they
have stomped upon now
feel dripping 'tween their toes
AWOL
That's how it goes
when your life rhymes
with the last line
of a pop song
on your radio
I've been doing this for a long time now
and I've watched others do it
for even longer
Nothing chills your bones
like the howling of wolf
way out back yonder
where you can't quite get to anymore
AWOL
You know what it's for
propping up the drink of Satan
and other zany kooky
madcap antics
draining the information
siege engines of
DOOM-ATTA-DOOM-ATTA-DOOM


sucking life from cities
and making it palatable
pictorial pastoral pastiche
I cut my teeth on that stuff
Give me a dollar
I'll show you the scars
the stars, get ye behind
all the good wars
AWOL
I sense civil unrest
on its way down the pike
in the form of a leggy blonde
in a politically opposable hemline
and asking questions
like a census taker
pronouncing with a calculator
She doesn't know what it means
She writes it down
She leaves

 

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