Hard Times

by on August 20, 2011 :: 0 comments

has so many meanings
transfixed on difficulties, times of
economies in dumpsters,
ex-CEO’s dumpster diving
finding remnants, crumbs of existence
once given to them on silver, platinum
card, platters filled with heads
of enemies vanquished.

For the working class,
heartache spreads to field workers
picking, squatting, bending over
taking it in
the behind
from bosses Cool Hand Luke
would smile that charming grin
before fleeing to parts unknown
only to return to entertain his mates
with grandiose stories,
eggs, dozens and dozens of eggs,
before taking his final reward
right between the eyes.

If Gabriel ever asks me
to play my trumpet
I’ll tell him I don’t blow it
anymore for I blew it
on Earth when
I left her in an alley
behind the all night cafe
in a nice, tidy lettuce box
filled with cooling green leafs,
hot sun rising across the valley.

On my deathbed, as I float away,
my heart will be with her
– if she lives
in a simple adobe,
fancy mansion tall,
or workin’ through the hard times
on the streets, short skirts, knee highs
in fear of abandonment
from lovers,
and God.

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