How High Ain't The Water Poppa?

by Philip F De Pinto

mired in drought,
still they manage the strength
to mock
to spit in my face
not being of their race
and say how is that
for relief?

I said the spit will
do just fine
at least for now
until such time you can
sob me a deluge of wine
to flush me out
of this arid fix
this stock you got me in
and at the same time get my buzz on
as you would not think me liberated
and sober in the same instance

and in such arid and temperate time as this
when it is not likely
one hand will wash the other
But it leaves the pair to chafe in the wind

And what had I - mired in my stock to offer in retort
not as a mock
but genuine relief?
save to rally the spit on my face
to volley
back in theirs

mired in drought
as they were
and likely to remain,
if they continued to mock
and waste on me
precious spittle


Posted on 07/04/2014
Copyright © 2022 Philip F De Pinto

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jim Benz on 07/04/14 at 07:35 PM

I like this quite a bit, Phil.

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