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the rain
dusk filling the chill air of
what will become another winter
night
the street light flickers on
stuttering
steady now
reflections bouncing off
the puddles on the pavement
the plate glass vitrine and
my glasses
I take them off to clean them
funny
how something so much part of you
can be so easily detached
zip zzip zzzipping up
against the cold (who invented the zipper anyhow?)
I somehow think of cotton candy &
the State Fair
the smells of the wet straw
the fetid bovine odour of
prize bulls
walking horses
& Greyhound buses filled with the phantom lovers
of a not so distant past
maybe my mother was right after all
maybe all is vanity and
vanity of vanities
and
it would be better to have a job
steady & solid & Teutonic
like Kafka's Castle (with a good civil service pension)
instead
of dreaming the sweet dreams of youth
at the advanced age of fifty something
(I always had a problem with
that
SOMETHING --
did it come to add or detract
from whatever it was attached
to
or
was it simply an euphemism
a stand-in
as it were
for something else?)
Look Ma
I can only say
watch out for Chesire cats
in the Garden of Eden
they ruin
the elaborate set design
of the Tree of Life
with their claws
& testy feline ways
while the real culprit eats a wormy apple
from the Tree of Knowledge
& gets heartburn from too much junk food
in the MacDonald's of love
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