Spare Change


I don’t see why you even bother,   she wrote;
it’s not even poetry   —   addled prose
is all it is.          always the same three themes:
every ‘poem’ a fractured rhapsody
of love and booze and its resulting blues,
heartache and heartbreak consequence of both   .  .  .
might as well just scrap your blog and burn your
poetic license altogether now.

at the park by the river,     thirty yards
down from a man playing frisbee with his son,
I stand before a wishing well,     toss in
all my coins,    and pause to compose my wish.
sign says the change goes to charity;     I
smile into irony’s eyes and go home to blog.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s