He Carries His Day's Graft

stained into the grooves of his hands
shows you what he is

You know what to do
and he will be prepared
for whatever that is
whether it pleases or not

He keeps it all on the surface
Lets his secrets continue
Not a shell
more depth, perhaps a blanket
or cardboard            the box
from a set of DVDs

It goes on until evening
To drift back into the possibility of that world
That world of possibility

~ ~ ~

If the key is lost
use a can opener
but the pump, the meat, gets you
puts gobs of fat in your blood
chokes your courage
yesterday's food pushes in your throat
you don't swim on a full stomach
you do the crossword
you do your job, tussle to win
stay out of the water
listen to the rhythm of the beach
got to find the song
my song

If I was a monk
I'd douse and burn
just to sing one song
for you

~ ~ ~