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Happy Rue Year
by Philip F De Pinto
Plan A
Is stabbing your life with an exacto knife.
A life from which you were estranged. Then divorced.
A life which had sought and won an restraining order from you.
Now you find that you are not permitted to come any closer than ten feet
Away from it.
Plan B
Is dumping your X in a land fill which is an exact science
Though it seems to the X's being dumped that they are
Mostly acts of improvisation. Elaborate schemes to split
With your life at the seams.
Plan C
Is grabbing at straws whose vacuous heads were immersed in the same frothy coke
Plan C is breaking a Chivalrous Law. The bloke who is too cheap to buy his life its own coke.
And who finished slurping expects those straws to be turned into gold by you know who?
Save this bloke hasn't a first born to exchange for such gold.
Plan D
Is a dog taking license with its left testicle then its right
Right left left right until he runs out of testicles to take license with
Save with those which have been institutionalized. Which is why you will never see
A dog in such an institution - so as not to compete with the institutional staff
Which is taking license with its own nuts.
Plan E
Is an exact number of hands reaching out and an exact number of hands reaching in
And grabbing from without and within an exact number of babes in arms
Walking hand in hand along some dolorous path which is strictly forgotten or
Forbidden to adults whose dwindling number is not a science but a piety.
Plan F
Is to skip plan F
Plan G
Is placing your hands neath your armpits. Then taking those toasty hands
And sitting on them so as to avoid the chill of a cold bench in the park
Where you had planned to spend Rue year's Eve and celebrate with a few critters
Who are enamored of all your plans thus far and who share in the slashing sentiment.
Plan F
Is to forget life's troubles which seemed so far away.
Yesterday when you and your life were holding hands and making plans.
Today we are holding its wake and later its seance.
Plan H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Is not to plan other than get used to being exacted from a life
Estranged from an X with whom you promised never to sever with and never to stab
With an exacto knife. But such is life for which we cannot make exact plans.
And the landfill is wide and it has nothing to hide.
Nothing that would interest you. The you who remains topside.
And still I can feel life's embrace fat as a wave.
A life. A bride which did not know how to keep pace and flat lined short
Of its golden mean. Life's embrace grabbing for the gusto and climaxing prematurely
Failing exceedingly short of the goal. And who can plan for arms to have no more embraces in them?
At final rest now limp and listless at their sides.
01/18/2013 Posted on 01/18/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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