Gas for the multitudes

Gas for the multitudes
We were all geared up for this gig,
don’t get me wrong, it’s true:
loyalty, guts, & Diner’s Club cards
the Boss demanded of his crew

to cover, you know, expenses for the road:
sinkers, felt-tipped pens, voltage meters,
cottonseed oil, Argo starch, bicycle chains
rabbit-skin glue, & cans of skeeter

spray (mustn’t forget the skeeter spray)
all grist, you might say, for the millstone
blocks of time dragging behind, unseen
but not forgotten, like the ancient bones

un-ignorable, that’s what they are, the nut
of it, the core, the unspeakable magma of it
that held us back, heavier than air
like some gas bag igniting

the inflammatory end to all our schemes
where Courthouse Road meets the beach.

Do we know when this will reach the end?

The Last Violinist

 

Photograph by Diana Young.

Rosin in the nose, horsehairs
eking out arabesques composed
in olden times longer ago
from this moment
until the day when
time runs out for us

When our time runs short
will the violinist
be able to play us out
with subtle style and grace
at the end

What if the horses
go extinct
before we do

How long before
the remaining horsehair
gets bowed to dust

Will somebody please
stockpile horsehair

Does it matter
whether it’s
mane or tail

Where to stock
all the hoarded
horsehair
skeins of it

When the horses are gone
millenary horse barns will be empty,
so you could stock the horsehair
there

So appropriate

What will they do in Kentucky
on the last Derby

Maybe they will gather
at the useless racetrack
Churchill Downs
doo-dah doo-dah
to hear the last violinist
bow out melancholy ballads
but especially the teary
Old Kentucky Home
for auld lang syne

Will the violinist bow with
only the finest BlueGrass
horsefarm horsehair

What else but the best
for the last bowing
when there will be
nothing more
to eke

 

.

You always feel better at the end of the day
if you can say
I did the best I could
I think
which is honest enough.

We coasted all the way from the
Col St. Louis to Caudiès
remembering the day we saw
this country for the first time
and said wouldnt it make a
home.