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Don't Ask Me

by Chris Sorrenti


I want to be all that you all want me to be
the fearless tread master out on a limb
bravely singing damn the torpedoes
if those twigs of reason should ever snap
with Moby Dick as guard dog
keeping me on a leash
in an imperfect world we’ll both survive

but those precocious signals have gotten crossed
the arteries in my head take days now to expand
perhaps I’ve been scrubbing the grease stains
from my frying pan far too long
and the windows to this house of mirrors
overdue for their Spring cleaning
have developed an unhealthy twang

so don’t carry it against me if I’ve a lover
worth waiting an eternity for
as we blow bubbles over tables of oblivion
amid the positive reflexology of September 11th
she’s a most magnificent vampire
queen of butterflies
promising eternal life
her own a haiku in paradox

though I’ve digressed my friends
Monet and Van Gogh would not be impressed
but this is after all the age of enlightenment
when without shame
a man can morph into a dish of quiche
perhaps it’s just the Chablis doing its duty
reinforcing those graying blood vessels
and if you were to ponder what this is all about?
I’d simply respond
don’t ask me
I only work here

© 2002

150 hits as of November 2019

03/05/2019

Posted on 03/05/2019
Copyright © 2019 Chris Sorrenti

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/07/19 at 02:05 PM

Oh man, I wish I had your ability to call forth such vivid images: twigs, grease stains, bubbles all in service to a bigger idea or feeling. Just one example: a man morphing into a dish of quiche. Thanks for the journey my friend. Traveling with you is a kaleidoscope projected on the screen of the mind's eye. Thanks, Chris.

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