The Rain

The rain in 1959 say is
Not the same as the rain in 2005
Which is something a lot of bad novelists forget.
In 1959 it’s raining and some kid has
To stay inside or go outside wearing one of those
Yellow raincoats and funny hats
That Dick of Dick and Jane had to wear
And this kid won’t do that.
No, he’ll watch “Superman”
And George Reeves is still alive
There on the black and white TV
And that 1959 rain is falling
On lilac bushes under which
He once buried a silver dollar
For a whole night and once saw a dead mouse
And the moon that comes out
After the rain when his mother is
In the basement actually ironing clothes
With a mangle and smoking a Lucky Strike
Is a 1959 moon but to get back to
The rain just then a rain was falling on Pusan
And Normandy beach quite different from
The rain for example falling
Today in a suburb here on the coffin
Of some poor kid killed in Iraq
And that kid knew in 1995 at ten
The 1995 rain and now he’s dead
And tomorrow it might rain.

Ok, then… so we’re in Fredonia…

The corpse on Page 1
Just got up and left
Ok, then… so we’re in Fredonia
Right before the coup.
Down on Moonlight Drive
Near the Palace
And you and me
Are playing chess
It’s snowing outside
But we have a nice fire
And there are even sleighs
Whizzing by in the lamplight outside
And we are listening to Ruby Braff.
And suddenly the radio goes off!
They’ve attacked the radio station!
I said “suddenly the radio goes off!
They’ve attacked the radio station!’
But the radio keeps  on playing.
La la la la la la. And you take my bishop and yawn.
Damn it, when will this poem get started?
And there’s a knock on the door!
And it’s the corpse on Page 1!
All right!
But he just comes in
And removes the first line.
And the second.
Ok, then… so we’re in Fredonia…

The Grasshopper and the Ant

 

My sad friend Ira comes into my office.

“I’m busy Ira.”

“I’ll just sit here for a while ok?”

Type Type  Pretend work.

“Soybean futures are down.”

“What?”

“I just lost 4,000 gogooglies.”

“So what?  You have plenty of gogooglies.”

Ira not listening.

Man, I didn’t need a sad friend.

Gotta pretend to work and he’s there.

 

Only a sad man

Sad sun setting and in the year 2000

Tells you sitting in the bar after work

Where he has trapped you:

 

“Never been married.

I am a confirmed bachelor.”

Then talks about his 401K

His stocks, the tragedy of loss

And the fact that he still has

467,000 gogooglies invested

In bonds and stocks and

Is movin’ on up

In the futures market

And is buying a condo

In the old Northern Pacific offices

The J. J Hill House and Lofts

Robber Baron Bastard

 

“I don’t have a 401K, Ira

No IRA either Ira.

Too confusing and anyway

I hate all that stuff.”

 

Think he’ll go away?

No.  I interest him strangely.

Slump to my office

“Natural Gas is up.

I didn’t buy.

Could have had those gogooglies”

 

Weekends he is at the library

Reading up on companies.

I’m at the library

Another one

Checking out the “Soul Life of Plants”

Do they have one?

I would like to know.

 

Two more winters.

IRA sad but up over  678,000 gogooglies.

 

Only when,  20 winters from now,

When, shivering in the snow

Old and broke, dragging my old broke ass up

The steps to the J.J. Hill Lofts

Banging on his door.

“Let me in you goddamn ant!”

Will my sad friend be happy.

 

Which is why.

After all.

I’m here.