canned calls

it's good enough
for conversation on your
hand held home grown phone
can't you hear what they're saying
it's a long distance
judgement call
" i'll bill you directly
for any damages i've
done"
kill the tack of
moderation
the revolutions
begun

so strange
the man , a novel marvel
a wonder
a ragged flag of ideas
he'd fly in your face if he could
just like you do to him
with your dim witticism
pomposity
the banner and trumpets gallant blasting
look how high the horse of
chemical properties
and the marketability of petroleum product
see it's not so simple
to be someone
in a party
of
rhetoricians
a nation me's
cowering below the belt
swallowing pill bills
for a life on the couch
chin on chest
fingers lingering stingingly
at the hair on his face
"bleed to think" he breathes in deep over his head

"you were supposed to
say something," she chided under
her breath
" it was up to you to carry the day."
disappointment
waited till the end of her sentence
before it stole her away
" it's so hard"
she squeaked two stick thin
composure leaving its' mark on her stricken face
so hard
to regain the lost momentum
of those apple pie
minutes
when teeth would
gladly sink in sweet smiles
now whose to laugh?
the past had it's chance and the present
is so choked in awkward
tension it lends itself comfortably to a confusing end it's
the sound of lake lapped land where
goodbyes puddle ceaselessly under there, the
huddled shuffle of another
cold shoulder