|
Nothing Improbable
Nothing improbable
Nothing awry
Hell there’s pansies
Growing in a
Half barrel
On the edge
Of the curb,
A couple of guys
With guitars
On the rail,
A skinny gal with
A half assed voice
Holding musical church
In the square,
And the Harleys,
There’s always
A noisy bike
Breaking wind
At intervals
While the breeze
Carries scents
From barbeque
To Thai,
Causing drooling
And wondering,
Should I go
Get a bite
Or hang in
For the real
Music to start.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
|
|