Tootie Ma Is A Big Fine Thing

If I had a quarter
I could bounce it off a rainpuddle

playing a little woe-is-me for comic effect
keyed in on a month of monsoon drizzle
& empty pockets

fearing the inevitable “maybe”
on a Blank Monday

              The wind goes there to sleep it off
                                                dreaming leaves of sand
                              rustling on Xmas Island

& it’s like an endless Mardi Gras
                              if you can get there
              even if just for a minute or two

the rest of the time it’s like
crawling up the Pacific Coast Highway on a
broken pair of legs
                                                in the rain
              on an empty Sunday afternoon