Thermal Winds

Thermal winds do nothing for the hummingbird;
   little flowers, nothing for the hawk
He truly seeks to strive, to use his otherwise useless griefs

A great American literary eminence swallowed
   the toothpick from his last martini and died
a surly, sickly death from a perforated colon (real story!)

And absurdly, if you’re Black and a man, you can in the good old USA
   expect to be in prison sometime for some petty, silly, non-violent, 
   not-even crime
Those are the statistics, my friend...

No sense to worry
   if it can’t work out anyway
Scary, broken, twisted souls litter our streets today

The end—and how do those last moments feel?
   You there, you—the mark, the vic, the chump...
Low spoken words surround us here like water

You can’t cheat and have good luck too...
   Look here friend, you ask of fate too much—
you really must choose


Why does he steal lots just to give it all back?
   We came to eat a fine meal, get our awards, joke a bit, drink some
We get together, we try to be understood

“So when, god damn it, are you going to fix my roof?”
   Matt asks “Well sir, what’s wrong with your roof?”
“You know damn well, what’s wrong with my roof!!!”

“I think you have the wrong number, friend”
   One joker tells of a world as it should be,
another sad joker says—here’s how it really is

He was sure of himself but difficult to know
   He loved, but was not loved back
Instead, he was laughed at

Those with shapes that no longer attract
   Those with the shapes that few of us see
Their pervasive, perennial, feral hard mysteries

Older and more skilled, he can go to this narrow zone at will—
   There’s the tonic, fun, acerbic, hidden, old-time comedies,
and his own impish happiness, and his own short victories



-January 16, 2013-