Living the Dream

He said:

Hard wind, barks at my back, but I am nonplussed.
Decisions are not easily come by, like new pets
or new women, or new clothes. These black rags
are not glad of this.  No, things should have mattered
more than this howling in a greedy wind.

It is a mild winter day, a day for contemplation
on a small walk down to slim boardwalk,
chunky bony-fingered dock leading out
to where a dive would be so easy to make;
arching, up into air that will not hold me,
any more than this earth, nor offer any softer
landing when I smack through plastic pretense of ice.

We said:

Something about, just walking off
edge of the world, away from snarling teeth
at our heels but never having the guts,
because someone would either get the credit
or the blame and it would never be the right person.

I said:

Knowing me, I would walk out and see beauty
and have to come back in and write
a damned poem about it.  By the time
it curled up on the paper next to me,
I would forget my first intent. 

We said:

When we do it, let’s hold hands, scuff snow
in growling faces and lolling tongued perpetrators
and maybe, when we get to the planks’ end,
it will be summer and god will have made the decision for us.
then we can come in, curl up on couch
and create silly poems about how human we are.

Tags: A Pack of Poets, Poems //