- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Still
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Still, old Salvatore in his shiny boots
prances back and forth outside the pawn shop
every monday morning waiting
for a reluctant turn of key
so he can drone in his soft, baby-like,
90 year old voice to a jaded clerk
about a gold watch he never owned,
but dreamed to be, and now wants back.
Still, Philip the corporate whore
winds up the Volvo of his wheels
and the Volvo of his head
for the daily brown nosing routine
of tucking dignity deep below
his bootlickng tongue still sore
form yesterday's particularly
successful endeavours.
Still, schoolgirl Sandra, apple of eye,
joy and pride so well behaved, polite,
ponders through cereal and cocoa
an offer to have her brains fucked out,
because in that acceptance tug-o-war
she has begun to feel her feet slip,
so maybe it's time to go with the flow
and just do what everyone else is doing
all the time anyway, right?
Still, in the park below the rails
Augusta strolls, handbag cradled,
held closely to her hissing chest,
talking softly to the tiny Chihuahua head
peeking panicked from the open zipper
of his prison transport,
wondering what all that Floor
beneath Mistress' feet really is,
and why he never is let out to walk it.
Still, the chips fall where they fall
and the rain where it bloody well please.
- COMMENTS
minsueabout 20 years agoI had to scroll back up and read it again and again. Truly a beautiful picture of people as they are.
- Mindy
jthserraabout 20 years agomenagerie, a still life in motion. Some interesting people and still, it rains.
jim :)
Anonymousabout 20 years agoyep, that's what you're and I'm sure more than half the time you're right in your story-like assumptions. I particularly liked the first stanza. Those old guys can talk your ear off. Well done, I enjoyed.
Liarabout 20 years agomy voice in praise. Those people you described could easily had been patronised and filed as stereotypes. But there is something in the tone which lits them to become Real People.
And another thing, the last short stanza is a fullworthy poem all by itself:
"Still, the chips fall where they fall
and the rain where it bloody well please."
Amen, brother.
Anonymousabout 20 years ago....you're a died-in-the-wool people watcher, Ice. Right? Or you wouldn't capture each of those vignettes so well and bring alive those characters.
