There Must Be Some Way Out of Here
This doesn’t
sound good
that does
& if it
sounds good
is it,
is there
an acid
test to
find out
a failsafe
in case
things go
wrong an
indisputable truth
to hang
on to
& if it’s
true is it
good are
the two
interchangeable?
Is this
too heavy
for the
average Joe
to untangle,
does it
take a Socrates
or Sam Spade
to lay it
out on
the table,
& anyway
is it
worth going
on about
with the
cards you’ve
been dealt?
The good
Samaritan the
good citizen
the good
lay &—
hey, baby!
Let the
good
times roll!
Whatever
that means.
But who
cares roll
’em on
out there
& gorge
yourself on
the spoils
then hit
the road
you can
always send
postcards or
text messages
offering apologies
begging a
reprieve from
your wife
from your
children from
the blind
paraplegic you
used to
wheel thru
the park.
Of course
you’ll need
a passport
you’ll need
plane tickets &
train fare &
a clean
change of
underwear
you’ll need
a knapsack
of excuses
you’ll need
to be
willing to
live another
day once
you’ve made
the mark
of Zorro
all over
everyone’s face.
On an
island somewhere
maybe Hydra
off the
coast of
Greece you
can write
songs about
it &
learn to
play the
guitar.
