It's Friday Night And I'm Ready

Itís my night, that thicket of experience
Outbound traffic closes one book
inbound is restless to open the next.
In my head, covers fiddle with their binding.
In my hands, a random script
only I could make into a movie.
I think poetry of all things
like thatís the shade just in case it rains.
Poetry and hotballs on the tongue.
And the futile shadows of the last pedestrians
closet campanologists and communist sympathizers all.
What can you throw after eight p.m.
thatís like a fastball
but requires the human element?
Or who can you meet like taking x-rays
of their head and stomach?

Australian born poet, US resident since late seventies. Works as financial systems analyst. Recently published in Slant, Briar Cliff Review and Albatross with work upcoming in Poetry East, Cape Rock and REAL.

© 2004-2010 Underground Voices