You can read the poem I wrote last night.
________
bad company
usually comes in
the form of men
with ornate and
highly visible forearm
tattoos
invariably sacrilegious
leering vacantly
mouths open
identical to the way
you're afraid you look
while gazing across
the seats at the latest
attractive stranger
they hunch forward
elbows resting heavily
on knees
talking incoherently
out of the
sides of their mouths
undoubtedly making
women nervous enough
to clutch their purses
reassuringly tighter
shifting their bodies
two inches closer to a
poster advertising
the merits of a
social service agency
one could (I suppose)
stare back
but it would have no
effect whatsoever
all bad company understands
is the evils of
institutionalized food
and the acquisition of
loose change
soon they'll leave
ambling out at the most
unlikely stop imaginable
forcing one
to think up a new game
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2 comments:
I loved it, and know the feeling.
I wonder if the old Mormons felt that way about me in group therapy last week? I was trouble walking in the door. I was cruising to cause trouble of mind for the troubled. But smugness brings that out in me like too much certainty that there is only one way to think. So I propose a different way of thinking.
Hi Kevin-
Excellent poem, vivid and real. I work with those you poemed about, (ya, I made up that word heehee), anyway, the addicted I serve at work often have the elbows on knees look with tatoos that are quite frightening. I can be allowed in some times and I have found that their fears surpass mine for many sad reasons. I am usually quite humbled by it all.
Love, Gail
peace.....
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