Wishful
I would be free of pavements
newspapers with no news
clocks that bully my existence
cars that whisk me away like God
descending unannounced upon me
buses that move like lugubrious elephants
horse fettered to the stupid hands of men.
I am tired to tears of the mental life
of my room full of the ghosts
of never known things
this spluttering monster machine
creaking into rusty senility
its hammerstrokes deciphering for innocent posterity
my heart's sudden audaciousness
I would gather about me soft-sandalled things
shadows on a burning lake
trees bending to the earth in love.
Where oh where are the beautiful people?
-the quick of wit
the clowns who spit
on life's sanctimonious countenance
the insolent
the indolent
the fey and gay
with sunlight dripping from their limbs?
I would pawn my hypothetical soul
to wake sudden in the dawn
and find a girls foot print in dew outside my door.
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