Random Acts of Poetry

Random Acts of Poetry

Pink Slip

Following the directions
of a clock's hands,
I saw newspapers
flying through a pale sky.

I walked in zigzags, thinking
check, checkmate,
avoiding each "buddy"
wanting change.

Afternoon circulated,
then was cancelled
as the day collapsed
like a leaky balloon.

Indifferent twittering
bounced off a wall,
and I wished all commuters
were monks in India.

All the while,
time throbbed in my temples,
as I composed prayers
to the great Abracadabra.

That night,
the words of my diary marched
like ants across a page.
By morning

I was a professional
shoe tier, meditating
upon the Titanic's orchestra
sliding into a cold, black sea.