Monologue with a tall, blonde doorstop

Who swallows cynicism like a python:

Wrap the ham sandwiches to go, baby,

Because there’s thirty miles of terror


Yawning before us like an e
scape clause

Or a hatch you can’t batten down

For all the monkeys in the trees

Or the bees around you knees


Left supine in the great chalky absence

Of your hifalutin, rootin’ tootin’ escapade

Known as the Super Bowl half-time show

Or the last public execution in Kentucky,


Whichever comes first which reminds me

How can you arrive when you never came?

How can you still trust this gullible world

Putting your mouth to God’s ear?



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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s