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Listen, Leo, remember the lifeboat
we pilfered from what you said
was an abandoned garage sale,
1442 Columbus, not the explorer,
the street? Last night I came to,
retired to the basement to ponder
my position on circumspection,
the fate of the cruel & unusual,
& drink until I passed out.
I had my underwear on & my .45.
I was planning to feast on that bag
of Chicken Shack backs & beaks
we got at the place that went broke,
put my legs up on a six-pack & drift.
Anyway, this eerie glow started
emanating from the sewage pool,
mostly greenish. It winked
so I shot it, Leo, I've had enough!
Then this long low lump along
the wall near the bulkhead
started toward me, so slow
I had time to think. Went
to the attic & came back down
bearing Mr. Double-Aught.
Leo, I perforated the lifeboat.
It has become a dead one,
incapable, now, of surfacing
above its circumstance.
We can never return to it now.
It's gone. Gone like the snow.
Gone like I got a little behind.
It's a sad world, Leo, we fell,
like yesterday's laundry
into the tub, let's face a fact.
There's nobody left like us.
I got a weathered pate, you
got a ticket to Nova Scotia &
I'm swimming beside the boat.
When we gotta die, we're gone.
Leo, I confess, I adore your face.
Give me a little papa kiss.
Give me a muscle up. Leo,
there's nobody left like us.
Jon Anderson
Read poems about / on: swimming, fate, snow, kiss, sad, remember, world, night, weather
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