That would be your chickenshit way, wouldn’t it, gringo?
Never happy with your good luck,
slide back to where you were
before this began . . .
Johnny Flowers was at home when Irish Cathleen called.
He didn’t say a word about Judy.
She was his business,
he told himself . . .
That’s the outer life for you. You can’t believe your luck,
you let it go and away you wander
to your busy mirror,
Now there’s a backboned remark for you, fuck up! Take
care you don’t believe what you say
or your age will tell you
to give up and go
where you know you should not be and there’s trouble . . .
Hubbard would come along, fuck up
your head like always and
the loathing is mutual
:Poor bastard, got his dope farm in Nebraska, or did have
and taking care of this woman
with peacocks in her yard
and her own life . . .
She says she paints on the back porch, you know the place,
she said, where you waded
the river to see me
taking the sun . . .
Cathleen says she will bring his car out to him if he wants
and they can have fun
the way lovers do:
in love with life
(3 May 2011)
copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander