Saturday, December 27, 2008

Or, If You Prefer

You can read the poem I wrote last night.


bad company
usually comes in
the form of men

with ornate and
highly visible forearm

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


Utah Savage said...

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.

Gail said...

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