Poetry
Table steady and eyes fixed
Her lip stick is neon pink
The dealer lays out the boogie jive
In a winning routine of blood lines
Rushing five card routines.
A Zambian in an anchor club jean jacket
sings a gospel
Fine tuned outside the dollarama
Lord give me a little bit of freedom for my walking
Through the turnstiles of strife
I am tired of polishing useless nickels
Stacking broken bricks that won't fit
Being a Mortal without the mortar
Skipping service for a pile of chips.
Stretch the universe
Stretch the universe
Stretch the universe
A baby colt billboard
Dog days in diamond
Spectators of high losses
Mini malls and fashion victims
Electoral decisions
to calm the swell
They are all under the spell
When they think they can't fail
Tail end on foreclosure street
Radio between the channels
No station identity
The fuzz in a white noise heat
Hollowing out the horn of plenty.
Francis A Willey
August 15 2013.