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Babble – Poem by Jade Blackmore August 14, 2012

Posted by vscorpiozine in Veteran Poets.
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Babble

Cold night.
No porno blue serenade in a post office box,
No walking in the rain to see sultry Italian songstress in an icehouse.
The record warps and sizzles (a song locked in time.)
The fantasy ballpark by the lakefront
Is sprinkled with a strawberry wind
Like a fragrance after sex.
Remember when you were eighteen and you watched kids
climb flagpoles there?
Impale was not a word in our vocabulary yet.
Now you’re stuck –
In a Navy Pier john looking to score with a Norwegian bouncer,
Serving coffee to a bleary-eyed black man studying broadcasting,
Petrifying in the stench of month old newsprint.
Imagine a December night stymied by Howard Cosell’s announcement,
Shielded from the newspaper headlines on the 7 a.m. bus the next day
While gagging on the perfume of the secretary sitting next to you.
Everyone’s getting married.
Disguised.
Like a skinny, frizzy-haired woman
Conducting the Detroit Symphony,
They are not the mascara-drenched rebels we thought.
DON’T SWEAT IT.
You’re the only one left.
Old friends make money,
Have domineering lovers,
Speculate on the color of shag carpeting
While you wait-
Buy knit hats at K-Mart,
Eat ravioli out of a can,
Masturbate,
Hoping for a storybook miracle,
Or at least a few strains of some
Lifesaving adolescent theme song.
But it’s too late.
Even the Fruit of the Loom king is getting fat.

Copyright 1981, 2005

From the book Close But No Pizza

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