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The Journals of Wild Poets

The Reciprocal Nature of Just Ones
Journals - Code Blue
Written by David Wright
   
Thursday, 04 March 2010 15:37
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had to stop at door number ten,
it had told me not to go,
eleven had said to wait.

a tall, dark and handsome man
shut in the door numbered eleven.

his trench coat deep and rust brown, 
a draped wet scarf from his wife and
dark pants sloshing over wing tipped shoes.

he had went in there planning on coming out.
stayed in there, g’ laid in there, played rubber ducky,

his ominous hitch: alarm clock, on the hour, precision.

with Timothy Weldon we’re lost on the beat.
with Charlie Brown we’re happier reading funnies.

a red skin enemy horse after you’ve turned crazy

and the snake finds the duck; it’s miraculous to see,
he’s gone in there to feed the sin back to the bird.
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