justwrite 9 august

the upstairs is full of people who have forgotten their feet their sweethearts have up and boiled over while they were taking pot shots at black kettles nettling them in their flowery beds with reasons instead enough to stuff their handkerchiefs in their eyes and hightail it out beyond doubts and southbound trains have before and will again sustain refrains of woe but to go is something better than to stay in staid rows lining up to catch the track stars ready to go and steady to show and heady to place with the race lingering on with strong-armed certainty the dependency on strangleholds with scolding left for other mothers to bear and to bury but those left behind the upstairs kind have lost their socks and docked their pay three toupees to the quarter hour a sour lesson to earn once the books are burned and the cats scratch their catch and crane their necks to the birds with absurd words exchanged rearranged from the common vernacular to form spectacular phrases the amazing ways this answer forms a cancer while it sits in a corner purposely forlorn and forewarned of such eventual perspective the prime directive which is forward though the score board shows a ticking licking being taken with mistaken addition subtracting all laughing from the play-it-again stadium demoting all hope to second class carry the third carriage in the garage lumbering through the forest until the trunks abhor us and our own passing