Coin Of Another Realm
Posted: November 22nd, 2010, 7:55 pm
You can’t rent one with poems, he said,
leaning against a wall as though it were his;
a shepherd of sorts, watching his flock,
mini-skirted, stiletto-heeled,
praying for tricks–knowing
that empty hands would buy new bruises,
rhyming with those from yesterday.
Giving his roulette wheel a whirl,
he said, you can’t play here with rhymes,
raking in the losing chips,
called, place your bets
and spun his little galaxy again.
The rhythm of his clicking world
was music to his ears.
No! The banker smiled
his mirror-practiced greedless smile,
you can’t deposit verses here.
Open an account with dollars, now,
and you may rent a narrow box
to keep them safe–
A safe-deposit book–Ha! Ha!–
contents unseen until...well, later.
Rest assured, it will be sealed,
unopened and unread until...well, later.
If you say so, the conductor said,
they might be golden words,
but if you want to ride this train
show me something with the shape
and sound of my wheels.
I’m talking silver dollars, friend,
round and clinking, round and jingling–
clickety click, clickety click.
Choriambuses, he laughed,
listening to the meter of his rails.
He of expressionless face,
and he of emotionless voice,
shrugged, agreed to his final request
and laid the open book of poems
upon his silent chest, the heart
that had run out of rhymes–
with professional solemnity closed,
sealed the lid, forever and ever.
Later with laughter they guessed
he’d guessed he’d take them with him,
wondered what he’d thought they’d buy.
Jim 11/09
leaning against a wall as though it were his;
a shepherd of sorts, watching his flock,
mini-skirted, stiletto-heeled,
praying for tricks–knowing
that empty hands would buy new bruises,
rhyming with those from yesterday.
Giving his roulette wheel a whirl,
he said, you can’t play here with rhymes,
raking in the losing chips,
called, place your bets
and spun his little galaxy again.
The rhythm of his clicking world
was music to his ears.
No! The banker smiled
his mirror-practiced greedless smile,
you can’t deposit verses here.
Open an account with dollars, now,
and you may rent a narrow box
to keep them safe–
A safe-deposit book–Ha! Ha!–
contents unseen until...well, later.
Rest assured, it will be sealed,
unopened and unread until...well, later.
If you say so, the conductor said,
they might be golden words,
but if you want to ride this train
show me something with the shape
and sound of my wheels.
I’m talking silver dollars, friend,
round and clinking, round and jingling–
clickety click, clickety click.
Choriambuses, he laughed,
listening to the meter of his rails.
He of expressionless face,
and he of emotionless voice,
shrugged, agreed to his final request
and laid the open book of poems
upon his silent chest, the heart
that had run out of rhymes–
with professional solemnity closed,
sealed the lid, forever and ever.
Later with laughter they guessed
he’d guessed he’d take them with him,
wondered what he’d thought they’d buy.
Jim 11/09