Listening to “The
Water-Damaged Blues”
a
real toe-tapper like
rusted
emeralds spilling against the
rocks
cobbled along the shore
“Anointed
w/seafoam”
I had acquired a
very particular set of
skills over a
long & desperate career
last
seen copping a couple of blank
sheets
from god’s prescription pad
which resulted
in a decidedly Roman Catholic hitch
in my getalong
& as my
sense of morality was
roundly
criticized I decided to concentrate on my
footwork
which
she insisted on referring to as an
“exit
strategy”
but
I wasn’t so sure of the rhyme scheme
in
the third stanza
entitled
“It’s only a head wound, Ma”
(nothing
that can’t be fixed w/a little nail polish)
& there was
nothing left to do but drive
90 miles-an-hour
in reverse
back
to the beach
where
I cultivated all the poise & presence
of
a burned-out movie star
