Saturday, March 30, 2013


                   Last weekend I did that dog sledding thing and although I enjoyed it very much I thought this weekend I would do something where I wasn't bruised and frightened.  So I went to a poetry reading.  

              That's pretty safe huh? 

              Well at least until someone starts reciting Leonard Cohen.

              I read a couple of poems I had written but also added this tidbit from the 1970s.  Probably the first thing I ever wrote.

              Funny It still seems relevent today. 


 There's still time to
 loose ten pounds
 buy a fancy car
 sip Chautreuse in a Paris bar
 But what of this? 

 The other day I opened a book
 to see my poem written word for word
 the exact same way
 it was in my head
 and strolling a gallery out of the rain
I saw a canvas I'd planned to paint
since April
On the bus home I fell in love
with a man who sighed  "I regret
 If only a while back we had met " 
 At the next stop he offered a hug 
 and went home to his wife
 I am one second too late
 You have written my poems  
 and painted my scenes
 and loved my men
 Of what use is it to be thin? 



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