Beach Balls, Rabbits & Heads

rabbit

You haven’t got your head up your arse

Or in the clouds any more, he said,

But firmly secured where it should be.

Atop my shoulders? I suggested.

But my big brother was right.

I was a dreamy kid but when the hormones kicked in— boy!!

My head was every which way but loose.

It was like a beach ball bobbing along

On choppy waves,

A dog chasing after every rabbit which crossed

its path.

I’m still a bit like that but the hormones

Are quieter now

& if I don’t watch it I still find myself

Head up the arse or in the clouds,

A head’s gotta go somewhere.

Off the Rails

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when I go off the rails

I’ll eat strawberry flan and chocolate cheese cake

wear my slippers to the shopping mall

my pj’s to the mail box

play my beethoven string quartets real loud like I did

my elvis records when I was fifteen

when I go off the rails I won’t be nice to mr fydler

just because he’s a senior

nor put the tv down when my kids ask me to

nor empty the dishwasher when

I don’t eat home at night

when I go off the rails

I’ll leave my newspapers just where I’ve read them

blare my horn all morning just to let my neighbors know

I’ve got one too

say what I really get up to when I “ go for a walk “

change my pass word on the internet so my brother-in-law

can’t sneak on

and when I go off the rails

like tootle the train engine

chasing butterflies

in the meadow

I hope no one puts me

back on track

too soon

 

Roads

roads

 

The great roads do not have them:

The Road Less Travelled,

The Yellow Brick Road,

The Road to Damascus.

Nor the vinyl ones:

John Denver’s ‘Country Roads’,

‘The Highway to Hell’,

The Beatles’ ‘The Long and Winding Road’.

Only the lesser roads have them:

The pot-holed, crumbling ones,

The ones we have to travel:

Road Works.