Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The Take Down.

What I'm saying is that
you ought not to park campers on your lawn,
tire tracks deep in the mud
slowly becoming merely mire
with each rain that happens by.
Nor do I endorse leaving old couches and refrigerators
in the alley three garage doors down
or dumping in on empty lot
where combinations of abandoned furniture
and appliances can stare
at the world that passes by them,
mute as if in unending astonishment
that anything comes to a finish.

What I am saying
is that you don't have to give away
all your clothes because churches
don't fill the pews as do movie theatres
or ball games during a series
where so much depends on ball being hit by a stick
that might fly over the cheap seats
and into a window, into history that is.

Religion hasn't been as good
as the movies in decades anyway,
and those kinds of ball games are rare , being ,
as it were, miracles true and factual only place
where prayer makes sense
and the game is more important
than what any man or woman wants
to with their appetites.
Find yourself a face to kiss
and leave the Laundry undone
just for one day,
wait until the net day off
to sharpen the knives for battle
(while I pray that day never arrives
for that reason), stop for a moment
and think about what
you've been thinking about.
and when you're confused enough,
come see me,
when I'll put
on some coffee
and we can read each
other from any book the house,
my treat.