Well—here’s one I wrote about dying called:
Waitin' for the Visa.
Some of my best friends got theirs and left—
Split this meat house years ago!
I’m not too cautious,
No, I risked it same as them—
But here I am!
I see some hobbling around
Creaking and wrinkled;
Some sour, some sweet;
Some tired of waiting,
Some glad to be here—
And I sort of wonder
How long it’s gonna take
For my papers to clear.
No, I ain’t eager or anxious. I dig life;
The high times and low,
And all the critters and flowers,
These jammed-up cities
And April showers—
It’s an idle thought
For a slow Sunday afternoon;
I just wonder if
It will be late or soon.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment