Saturday, April 16, 2011

Wobbly times number 111


neurotics unite
in the park
to watch and be watched
while a homeless man
holding Santa-sized plastic sacks
delivers invective
to the camped 
encamped and decamping
sparing neither old nor young
of either sex
none of them rich
some darker
some white
some sunning themselves
like cold 
dry lizards
each in their turn
caught in the moist web
of this demented soliloquy
trying not to pay attention
to the pain
trying to enjoy
their anonymous community
as pigeons fly 'round mown green grass
and gulls peck through trash
blowing between statues to the dead
the man's speech meets the smiling breath
of blind drunk winos
winos snoring 
jobless begging
people talking
none of them rich
some of them scared
trying not to show it
frightened at the prospect
of his approach
fearing themselves about to be 
contaminated by his misfortune
while others be thinking
'bout madness
'bout violent possibility
thinking hard
'bout this 'rithmetic of misery

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