Wednesdays They Pay Us, But Now It's Thursday
by Bud Smith
now, no
instead
lay horizontal
til all your fluids
ideas and juice
plus gravity
are carried off
somewheres else
where god herself
only knows
the dreams
of dreams
are getting close
a purple wolf whispers
the sun flinches out
fire rolls through
the drive-thru
and who
are we to guess
our lives
are small
un-mechanical things
occasionally wounded
often folded
seldom to be melted
down to gold.
I've just gotten my paycheck
and it wasn't enough
now I'm going to sleep
see you there,
in all your Light.
|
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72 words
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Author's Note
a prayer of sorts to a coin coining bank machine.
Other stories by Bud Smith
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Oh, just wonderful.
Yes.*
Much enjoyed.*
"the dreams of dreams..." I love this line. *
Nice. *
The title alone is worth a star.
Hey Bud, did you mean for the title to have a mis-spelled word? Thursday? Or is my dyslexia messing with my head. Either way, fave.
This crept up on me after a few reads, and then yeah!
"lay horizontal
til all your fluids
ideas and juice
plus gravity
are carried off"
Nice.
First-rate poem, here.
*
thanks to all y'all. Much love tonight, from this Halloween party.
love how this rolls itself into bed
*
*, Bud. This lovely line is a poem itself:
"...our lives
are small
un-mechanical things
occasionally wounded
often folded
seldom to be melted
down to gold."
This got me thinking of a guy a knew who worked for a year straight only paying bills and depending on the kindness of his co-workers for gas money and food. Bam, this is good!
A big wow on this one. *
Fire rolls through the drive-thru... God I'd love to see that.