Mexico, D.C.
Storming home from a bad
date, black dress
too tight, hair frazzled
she broke a heel
fell into a bush
and came up at the corner of
lonely and embarrassed.
She tried to avoid it,
but she could tell,
she felt it
from head to toe
and her shoes were paying attention
even as she tried not to.
She spoke a different language
than half the population
She understood intelligence, kindness, a little fun, a little kiss
They misunderstood
intelligence, for bitch
but yet, a moment later
kindness, for love
a little fun, for kinky
a little kiss, for slut
Her dress was too tight,
she knew it, but she didnt do anything
she half expected it to happen
but when it did
she wasnt prepared, didnt know the word for stop
so she yelled out Burro
ran out the door
and back to the corner she knew, and hated
I.
Old Joe,
Did the electrics
Burn you out?
Old Joe,
Im told
you were a kind and
gentle man.
And I remember the
red Balloon you gave to me,
more than you;
And I,
recalling
as much as
I can,
Think; (Yes,
you
were indeed,
a kind
and
Gentle man).
II.
Those
Steam engines that
Huffed
their grind to speed,
Did they
leave you behind?
Or was it some mothers
Smother,
That wore you down?
The electrics killed steam,
true
perhaps, yet ~~
I dont think
your heart
had
hurt
there~~
You were
(too quiet, & calm) to
Complain.
And you always~~ slow,
Opened like a flower
just to say a
sweet hello.
III.
Where are you
now, my
Old Joe,
Good
Old Joe,
listening to 78s with
Mamas Italian gal?
Youre pulling on
Gods Wings,
Laughing
a soft and
gentle laugh
just like
Gods Laugh.
And before
I could shake
your hand,
just
Like a man,
Who had
grown before your eyes---
We were flowering
your bed,
Dusting away
the grime,
and the dead
and I,
Old Joe,
Wondered just
what had
memory said.
March 23rd, 2004. <--
[Edited on Mar 24, 2004 5:46PM]
[Edited on Mar 24, 2004 5:47PM]