Last night was supposed to be an open mic and workshop, but I sent the info out too late. There was a a short open mic instead. Julia Carlson was celebrating her birthday yesterday. I recently celebrated one as well, so that effected the overall poem, which is below. Kudos to Julia for the jump-start.
Fine Whine
You are as old and full of worth
s a comic back issue
from the last century
missing a front cover.
As safe to be out as
a lone girl in a ghost taxi
whose driver brags about
his brand new leather seats
made form Italian cow.
Tough as an empty dog leash.
Sexy as night sweats
post-early bedtime.
As ready-to-meet the masses
as modern day Rome.
Every move you make
that doesn't throw you off a cliff
becomes increasingly likely
to befuddle the not-yet born.
Dying won't. Even the young
understand the need to die,
for the older to leave before
they wonder how and why you're here.
You sculpt accumulated hurt
into molds of false horticulture
for a fretful shade you can sit under.
They call it dark. What else would it be?
Your empty home is the emptiest
bed and breakfast. You wake knowing
all here are welcome.
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| Julia the birthday girl was brave enough to put herself at number one! |
Special thanks to Julia Carlson, Harte Weiner, Domenic A., Martha Boss, Carol Weston and James Van Looy.
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