Tuesday Poem

 

What if the people didn’t

Think much of you caught up

To get whatever it was

Right when you were about to

Top the mountain you had been

Climbing since you were born, and

It was like My Name is Earl

Except your fucked over friends

Had the list that started with

Broke the front forks on my RM

Suzuki and never paid,

Bottles of speed you took to

Sell at college, never paid,

Common denominator

Seemed to be money, but guys,

You said, my water is near

About to turn into wine

If you can give me the time.

They are old men too, you know,

Like aren’t we all anymore.

They huddle up to decide;

One looks like Larry Bird

Wants to stomp you like a dog.

He’s mulled on this forever,

And it’s like he’s reached his own

Mountain top of sorts, wearing

Pointy cowboy boots, a

Belt to whoop you good.

The other one’s phone rings

And they leave quick as they came

Relieved and stinking like fear.

Maybe you can outrun your

Past, you think, just before the blast.