a day in a life
Posted: August 16th, 2019, 10:00 am
my front porch is not bucolic
but it's my answer to pastoral perches...
I watch the colorful metal boxes roll,
humming goodyear rubber kazoos
the occasional horn that couldn't make the orchestra
the determination to not be late is palpable .....
my neighbor pops out his front door, backpack
strapped on, ball-capped and tan from trimming trees
in charm city, he won't need his little chainsaw today
this weekend he tells me, he is heading for long island
a sardine on the mega-bus...." To Get Drunk " with a friend...
a man in blue tennis shoes, gray shorts, white tee shirt
earbuds tucked deeply into auditory canals heads swiftly
to the convenience store to pick up his lottery ticket
dreams of millions puts a wry smile on his lips
he sings like a free bird without a real audience
he seems to live in a bubble of his own creation...
I'm in my rocking chair happy to be pain-free and rockin'
An ambulance screams by with sirens that hurt the ears
I push my fingers inside to dampen the intrusion
strobe-lights of red and white insistence , it's just another day
and I am an aging urban master of adaptation
I am a city-boy chameleon with all the colors on the wheel
and I think to myself as the meat wagon whizzes by
I'm glad that's not me, I'm still happy to be here
I hope they will be ok....
even for a heathen like me, this is a common prayer
that the ravages of this tight-knit community
won't be too severe this morning
I pick up my coffee, turn to the sports page
but it's my answer to pastoral perches...
I watch the colorful metal boxes roll,
humming goodyear rubber kazoos
the occasional horn that couldn't make the orchestra
the determination to not be late is palpable .....
my neighbor pops out his front door, backpack
strapped on, ball-capped and tan from trimming trees
in charm city, he won't need his little chainsaw today
this weekend he tells me, he is heading for long island
a sardine on the mega-bus...." To Get Drunk " with a friend...
a man in blue tennis shoes, gray shorts, white tee shirt
earbuds tucked deeply into auditory canals heads swiftly
to the convenience store to pick up his lottery ticket
dreams of millions puts a wry smile on his lips
he sings like a free bird without a real audience
he seems to live in a bubble of his own creation...
I'm in my rocking chair happy to be pain-free and rockin'
An ambulance screams by with sirens that hurt the ears
I push my fingers inside to dampen the intrusion
strobe-lights of red and white insistence , it's just another day
and I am an aging urban master of adaptation
I am a city-boy chameleon with all the colors on the wheel
and I think to myself as the meat wagon whizzes by
I'm glad that's not me, I'm still happy to be here
I hope they will be ok....
even for a heathen like me, this is a common prayer
that the ravages of this tight-knit community
won't be too severe this morning
I pick up my coffee, turn to the sports page
