Bitter Sweet

Here is the second poem. Although I try to avoid writing poems about poetry, I find myself returning to violate that rule many times lately, feeling that they are somehow legitimate exceptions to the rule.  See what you think.

 

They’re in that room behind the curtain

Reading their poems and playing their guitars.

The young girls are so pretty they make my heart ache,

The young men, it looks so easy for them.

I could go in, order a beer, sit down,

And listen to a poem or two,

But for what?

I don’t understand what they’re saying.

 

Walking out into the cold night air,

Looking in the glass windows,

My hands in my pockets.

What would I write about?

The garbage cans overfilled and tipped over?

The “fuck yous” on the urinated walls?

The drunken men curled up on their cardboards

Wrapped in the warmth of newspaper?

The sirens from the next street over?

What would I write about?

 

I used to have a job,

Usta have a friend,

Usta have a wife and kid,

Usta have some books and things.

Usta, usta, usta.

 

Life is silenter without a job,

Life is cleaner without friends,

Life is freer without a family,

Life is less encumbered without things,

Isn’t it?

Mike Stone

Raanana Israel

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1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “Bitter Sweet

  1. I really like this poem! It moved me!

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