Monday, September 30, 2013

A Poem by Bill Jansen

Damnit, Roy

Would welding sparks hit the city
like tourists from the sun,
if not for Roy?

The city
a thought-pattern
of get-real blondes
dream drones
in handbags
balanced news
food carts
bike psychopaths
savvy suicides
radar glossy
Susan the weather girl:

Pole-dance tonight-
cloudy this morning.
Mammoth tusked Indians
as cigarette smoke
in dusty lobbies
playing backgammon
on a Turkish rug.

Lottery tickets
like cufflinks
on a stray dachshund
with 3 pieces
of photo ID.

Overpass noise
the thrill
rolling joints
on a diaper changing station
at your Mary's Dance & Dine
Broadway and Ankeny
girls girls girls
Visa Visa Visa
like soft wood rotating
on a lathe of Chuck Berry.

On the marquee:

A Pioneer of the Industry
We miss you Roy.

Yes, we miss you Roy
and no absolution
by rainbows on skateboards
with fractured wrists
can replace you,
though the mayor is a Samurai
with bee stung lips.

Bill Jansen lives in Forest Grove, Oregon.  Recent works has appeared in Gap-Toothed Madness and Asinine Poetry.

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