Reflecting

 
I've put on my coat, grabbed my hat
cranked up the flivver, or caught a bus
punched that clock
working for the man to make the mon
weekend come
spend every damned dime
on some dame who offered it up
mines the best
she sniggered as we fell into bed
fell in love
because she was right
when it is so good
how can it all turn out so wrong
been down in the dumps
chasing myself around the block
about killed myself
afraid to stop
I've climbed mountains inside myself
only to fall
down the Canyon of Futility
thought something was wrong with me
(it was)
making notes about people I knew
their hair, their noses
big or little
 . . . er . . . take yer choice
whether they were grumpy
pretty or sinfully ugly
(I've had some beautifully sinfully uglies let me tell you)
thing is
didn't know what to do with all those notes
threw 'em away
had no idea I really had
writin' in my blood
killed hundred's of interesting
(some of 'um) characters
back to love
found it
didn't know what to do with it
left it
chip w-a-y too big on my shoulder
blamed certain people
my influences ya might say
but never mind all this ramblin'
I'm old enough to die
been down many roads
all I have to show for it
are poems, novels, etc.
that sometimes seems like I'm whining
three children
two of 'em of who stumbled through the clutter
of lies and truths
to find their pa
no one can understand how I feel
about that
I've heard it over and over
if I could go back, wouldn't change a thing

I would

©November 15, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton