Scurvy Bastard

A Town So Nice…

Yesterday I saw a man in a wheelchair
having a shit in the middle of 8th Avenue
Actually it was the right lane
A truck was parked along the curb
and in a desperation of dignity
he preferred to wheel himself into a traffic lane
beside the truck
rather than be displayed unto pedestrian perusal
I saw him because the truck pulled away
as he was attempting to wipe his ass
He was struggling and crying,
eyes shut tightly, with one hand gripping an armrail
balanced like an acrobat
A homeless man
A lost man
A man

I didn’t help him
I chose not to
and walked on
as the stained newspaper pages blew across the street
through an army of clockwork feet
On the way home
I passed several people walking dogs
each armed with a plastic bag
ready to scoop and wrap
A few were in action on bended knee
Some smiling and offering kudos
as the dogs would wag their tails
anticipating the warmth of home

I feel no guilt
and that is what I feel guilty about

Four-leaf-cloverfield

The fucking leprechauns are everywhere
we’re hiding out in the basement of AA
it’s the only safe place
while thery’re ransacking the city
tickling everyone to death
But they’re nothing compared to that giant creature out there
30 stories tall
the spitting image of Michael Flatley
riverdancing through the city streets
smashing skyscrapers to dust
Ach, th’ horrors, th’ horrors

Waste Knot

Swerving down the all American
As usual
Both ears swallowing radio-seed
I was informed
Prozac would be getting a warning label
Too many subscribers
Were canceling
Out
Out the window I spied
With 2 worn eyes
A landscape littered with casualties
From Madison Avenue to MTVland
& I thought
What could possibly be more worthless
Than suicide-inducing anti-depressants?
And then I remembered
It’s an election year
There’s hope yet

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One Response

  1. Funny stuff, inventive poetry. Brought enjoyment to this long-departed ex-New Yorker. BR

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