Graveside Chat

by Philip F De Pinto

Mr. Jones
How’s your bones?

I’m afraid
They are not quite
What they were
Young blood!

Saving the one that still presides
Front and center
The one that gives rise to all bones
That still thinks it's a young colt
The one I haven’t had time
Or the patience to put
Into permanent pasture mode

Well that bone young man
Would still get off its load
Is not over the hill
It rattles for attention still
Even at this late date

How is that Mr.Jones?
Oh never mind
And how are your teeth holding out?

I’m afraid to report
They could not hold the fort
North or south
As they promised they would
And all have deserted save the two
The one on top and the one on the bottom

Needless to say I am thankful young man
They lie perfectly aligned one top the other
For my clicking and clacking pleasure
So as to kill this infernal boredom
Of laying here in this dirt for infinity

You know - that device that geometricians theorize
Never peters out but just keeps going on and on and on and so forth
For whatever infinity is worth

You wouldn’t know you say
Oh but you will

And so in passing Mr. Jones
Before I forget
How's the old clock ticking?

Why not ask yourself that question young man?
As you would know first and foremost how it’s ticking?
That clock which got its start long ago
Which I weaned from infancy into adulthood
And which I lost in a rite of passage
No longer ticks in my chest but yours
And by the sound of its gong
I can feel that it is still resounding strong
As if it longed to tick in your chest all along

So sing a song young blood
Sing a song to hearts won and lost
Sing along with Mr. Jones

And think not so much to possess the gift
You received on a lark into infinity
But think ultimately to pass that gift along on a lark
To be a guest in yet another chest
If and when that heart has lost the zest
To beat in yours

And if and when you do pass it along
Just wait young blood like I have done
For the elated recipient to show up
At your final resting place
And hovering over your eternal rest
Interrupt that infernal boredom and say

Hey Mr. Hicks
How’s tricks?


Posted on 03/22/2019
Copyright © 2022 Philip F De Pinto

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/26/19 at 07:53 PM

As always Philip, never disappointed with your way of looking at and expressing your view of life/ around you.

Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 07/23/21 at 04:27 PM

It has been so long since I have opened a poem here... And so I came to my old friend's little spot on pathetic... And this was the perfect poem to read at the perfect time. I love it so much... It's flow is impeccable, and lesson/story undeniable. At least for me.

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