Brunch Poem Day 6 (mine).

for Colin

He’s the historian he’s
got tallies stitched behind

the floorboards of every
lore he spins, nick names

& scoreboard shame
punches thrown

& homegames blown
up until the dirtiest

of mismatched details
quits its job in mall store

retail and hightails it
out his mouth like proof

of some uncouth and not
quite legal brand

of smalltown microscope.
But blue eyes, there is hope

for you the joke’s of course
on whom your brain

elects to memorize and you
my cornered friend are

slightly borrowed, slightly
prized and altogether

heedless of the tonnage
of your fulltime occupation

you’re just a new york boy
with piss poor circulation

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