Friday, January 16, 2004

Run for your lives! It's Poetry!

I don't write poetry, but today was a muddy, confused day - awakening from moody, water-soaked dreams to about five things that needed to be done at once, and all at the end of a week that has left me exhausted. So in the middle of the afternoon, I put this down. I have no idea if it goes anywhere, but hey, you're here, so let's try it.

Talking Shop
J. Grubb

Business is down
said Bob the funeral director
signalling for his regular margarita
(Double, lime and salt
served in a glass tumbler)
You would think otherwise
times are tough
people are nervous.
Know they won't live forever.
Think of the future, we say
the Survivors
the Heirs.
Don't be a burden
plan in advance.
Now people think of the future
and see bad times
hard times, why pay
for a plot when you might be
scattered with the airframe shards
over some farm town?
entombed in a collapsed structure?
flash-fried, your body stacked
with all the other unfortunates?
Deep sigh and that first sip.
No one really wants to think of the future.

More later,