Читать книгу Common Sense - Ted Greenwald - Страница 17

NOTE TO A DUMB FRIEND

how long’s it been

since we last spoke

there are infinitely less

bridges left

than last a lifetime

weather’s finally gotten nice

the sky in t-shirt

how’s yourself the kids

must be grown a lot

since I last saw them

has the job been working

out all right everything

’s pretty much the same

here, but a little better,

if that makes any sense

the sun’s on the scene

the tiniest random bolt

blocks away glows

despite rust windows

and brick take on a fire

you wouldn’t expect

this I’d miss if I was

n’t here that, and

dinner with friends

you haven’t been down

to see the apartment yet

—the one I share—so I

can only approximate the view

the rent is nothing in

comparison the state of

the nation, body politic

corrupt body that houses

the dog’s skeleton is

nothing even the glowing

nerve-ends of buildings

are nothing to the vertical

pleasure harvested from

the horizontal don’t

get me wrong my feet

are still very much on

the ground my feet are

grounded in sacred principles

that carry me to sharpen

my wits on the whetstone

of today’s air suddenly

we’ve passed all that

on a train of thought with

a hook in it to reach out

and grasp the male principle

in the station just passed

this allows us to nap in

comfort for awhile, letting,

like efficiently circulating

blood, the breeze gently

blow around the toe

managing to move me a foot

from where I started

but, enough about me

how about you