At first all I see
is his red bliss potato
nose
as he caresses the bark
on the giant silver maple
that has absorbed the fence
between our yards.
Look at those,
he says,
and now I see stray limbs
that grow straight down
before arcing up to reach sunlight
denied by the dark canopy
of the rest of the tree.
Is there any better explanation
for the persistence of dive bars and brothels —
low spaces
where the struggle for light
is carried out?
Drummer –
ooh, oh,
ah yes:
drummer, you
move thick air
in pursuit
of cool, you
lasso the
cool,
tattoo the cool.
You be cool,
are the sweatingest
cool ever —
and don’t
get me started
on the guy on bass,
because I might
go that way for
cool, long-necked
cool, steady hand
cool…
Not the guitarist, though. No, no,
not me.
Not tonight, buddy-roo.
Fat man, stiff fingered butter-
ball, you look like you’re
trying hard to keep up
and are not,
and that
ain’t cool.
They’re Odin and Thor
playing to beat Valhalla
up here, all one-eye wise
and thunder lord.
Nice guys —
gods can afford to be —
but what I was thinking,
I don’t know.
I thought
the name on my headstock
would be enough passport
for this trip…
Play it safe.
Just comp till I can drop,
and they smile me off.
Gonna get a beer,
let someone else handle all that
staggering cool
a while…
but I got
eyes for a prize
now.
Dark Matter 