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se 47/ep 22

by Gabriel Ricard

I wish someone would extend
my twenty-dollar loan another fifty years
every time I go to pieces walking past a bar
playing the sad song
that only appeals
to unique spirits like me.

All nine billion of us
and that includes egos and books
where we changed the names
of the characters we didn’t like.

I always went
with something from an old
Japanese cartoon. I was also partial
to my favorite women’s names
that were used as titles for songs
I will never confess to enjoying.

I wish the number-nine bullet train
stopped by Savannah, GA. I wouldn’t want it to stop
until I was sick of troublesome
women and violent men on the other side
of where Heaven and Hell got together
and opened up a downtown mall.

Sacrifice everything
for a little peace and quiet. A fireplace
that knows how to keep
its mouth shut. Skeletons that will bring me the mail
and not just the stuff that’s addressed to me.

Years and years,
my darling, my friends and casual backers,
years and years since I’ve been that deranged.

Even more time has gone by
since I drove a car on my own
and didn’t make it to my intended destination
because of something even better.

I don’t want a haircut or pants size
that reveals my true age. I don’t want to spend
more than an hour each year looking serious
in the middle of an impossible Arlington rainstorm.
I don’t want to see her crying
while we drive home from the grocery store.

I sure as hell don’t want to see a pale man
on a horse that’s missing half the skin from his face.

Even if they aren’t coming after me. I don’t care. I just don’t want
to know about those things. Give me peace and serenity
for nine-ninety-five or less. Hand it over
or just get the hell out and find someone else
to write about your safe return.

I’m in no mood for what warm weather
can do to the emotionally secure.






04/06/2010

Posted on 04/06/2010
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 04/07/10 at 03:32 PM

...gabe, your writing style/flow of words/images, absolutely slay me...a yearn to be able to EVER spin a yarn like yours...

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/07/10 at 04:07 PM

I have no clue about the title, but loved the poem. I swear your images just get stronger the more you write. A pleasure.

Posted by Ken Harnisch on 04/07/10 at 04:19 PM

powerful imagery throughout, but what else is new in a Ricard poem? I savor each line, then go back for seconds when my head stops spinning.

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