Been down too long.
Always looking up.
Trees.
trailers with broken eaves.
Easy in torn jeans.
Everybody is Mister
or Sir;
smacks the screen door shut.
Hardly.
The tires are bald
most of the shits at the store,
or in the pockets of the saints.
The air conditioner
drowns out Jerry Springer
and the fuse for the oven is blown.
"Heaven knows"
Lisa says,
staring at my toes
through the holes.
The glitter of my yellow nails
isn't what keeps me up at nights
when the pick-ups crawl
up and down the road.
That would be the swing
of her naked ass
on the way to the bathroom
where the bare bulb
turns her brown eyes green.
Anyway.
She tugs on my toes
and says we're going out.
I shove on my shoes
under the coffetable
and tag along.
There ain't nothing much to do.
Author notes
Written January 7th, 2005
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1 - 13 of 13
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This is not you.......... I do not know how I know it I just do. I love free verse and I love this.
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interesting
I'm not a fan of free verse, but I detect rhymes, or half-rhymes.
Anyway, I like the style - and the drollness of it all.
Dunno if drollness is a word - but it is now.
Regards,
Robin.
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Wow
Yep sounds like a Huck Finn moment to me.
I loved it. It really touched on how life really is. Thank you for sharing. 
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remembered
Like Tom Sawyer even. Good stuff.
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i love this and the trueness that runs through this poem good job
Heaven knows"
Lisa says,
staring at my toes
through the holes.
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i like the part about to girl
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I read Edperterson, and then Slime, and then Lute. Oh, Lute, I should have read you first. So what? Now I agree with Ed and Slime on this poem. All you three got something to share in writing style.
Edited on Jan 15, 8:53 p.m. because ''. -
Bald tires and my shocks can't hold air any better than a retiring vacuum cleaner salesman can hold an erection and
riding to work is like being on a safari.
That's true, too.
Really good ..
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You do bleak well, too. The litany of things wrong, that sounds so right.
most of the shits at the store
where it belongs.
I loved this.
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if its about street life then i have to do libertines lyrics or everything, EVERYTHING is wrong
What a waster, what a fucking waster
You pissed it all up the wall
Round the corner where they chased her
There's tears coming out from everywhere
The city's hard, the city's fair
Get back inside you've got nothing on
No you mind yer bleedin own you two bob cunt
beautiful beautiful lyrics i love them. the bit about her bum swinging around all naked is gorgeous and the poems all raw and a bit grubby and a bit like in the post office by the kinglordsirman. same feelings.
when you say arse you say ass.
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I agree with Ed. Indeed.
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Sounds like a day in a life or my so called life or something like that, it does.
Nothing much to do, tagging along. Perhaps a hobby? or something?
I know this guy, I'll call him bubba. Bubba never had anything much to do, although there was plenty to do around him, he just wasn't interested in doing it, including going out but then he started bowling on Sunday nights cause the bars were closed on Sundays even though he used to make fun of all the bowlers. So he started bowling on Sundays and loved it. So much that he started bowling on Wednesday and Thursday nights too, and hung around the bowling ally on Monday and Tuesday nights, just in case one of the bowlers didn't show up and then he could sub for them. Drank a few ya know. Seemed Saturday night was the only night he found time to spend with his one true love but I didn't mind cause I got to go out with the girls all those nights he was bowling which brings me around to the pick up part of this poem but I'm out of time so I'll tell that story another time.
Desiree
Edited on Jan 07, 8:07 p.m. because ''. -
Perfect.
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