I ran into Jack
walking down the road
and figured Id take a moment
just to goad him a bit,
so for my dimes worth,
I asked him why his name rhymed.

He said Holy Father I pray,
USA, onion bagels and a spot
did me in.

The shape Im in came from fame,
a Game,
no name.

Its worth a fin or five alive
and kicking rubber monkeys
just to see behind that back.

A shoulder blade.
No clothes,
no hat (she doesnt do that)
just smoking cigarettes in the
dark,
good thing,
she might see the hair in the crack o my ass.
Sweet lass,
dont need none of that.

A feck, a fuck, a freckle,
thats it!"

I nodded sagely advised,
apprised, and disguised by my
stoic lack of laughter
in the face of fact.

But I wondered still,
why all this time,
his name did rhyme,
as he passed my shoulder
on dead feet.

06/28/2006

Posted on 06/29/2006
Copyright © 2026 Timothy Somers