On the breezeway
Whatever that is
But it sounds
Like a nice place
To sit
(If you have a warm jacket
A nice hat
And fine leather gloves)
And read
A long book
About the IRA
On this
Quiet
Starless night
I watch a stripper
Or a naked girl
I have no idea
What she does for a living
Dance to the sound
Of birds long gone
South for the winter
Of my discontent
Chirping like
Charlie Parker
Wailing in a bar
A long time ago
I resolved
To never
Look a gift horse
In the eye.
No comments:
Post a Comment