Tuesday Morning

my habitual morning jaunt went nice and smooth
it’s nice to know half the town already got a Fix
and now unlikely to commit ridiculous crimes;
as I pass the bus stop while Baker blows his horn
the crows fall asleep,
and the sky hides the fiery sun and a sea of leftover clouds

and he blows with analogous despondency 
as the man who lives down in the creek screams
on his long pale stage—shaped like the serpent … with no disguise whatsoever:

“YOU DIE! YOU DIE! YOU DIE! YOU DIE!!”

over and over and over again at top volume
veins a poppin’
finger a pointin’ (always at me)
until the neighbourhood crawls from their tiny holes

(except for I! who has crawleth indeed!)

some stare
some laugh
some even yell back:

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, MAN! JESUS CHRIST!! ARE YOU CRAZY?!?”

and when the man turns to leave
Baker sets his axe aside
and starts to sing like a young dying seraph
a vociferous but gorgeous stranger;

(then I push snug in between his softened words
with my favourite dirty syringe …

the wickedest melody I’ve ever known …)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s