a poem by Jay Coral (2 of 2)

Counting

I look out my room's window
and count the pigeons on the wire
each leg is a dangling note
each head is a confused beat
they gawk as if they have never evolved
and they poop like they own the land
the bald man with the shiny scalp is the Indian target
and the goth chick with chalky cheek begs a Summer rain

I count the seconds
when the bald man will smile at the sun
and thank the heavens for the shit on his head
the lucky green shit that will cascade in his eyes
he will wipe with his bare hand
and will open a vitreous line on his fate
he will win millions in the lottery today!

I count the minutes
when the goth girl will ignore this absurdity
she will not blink
not even to the fickle mind of existential wind
the crisis that will drop the essence of shit in her face
thus she will curse the world
her eyes widening like a snowy owl
and when she sees the oncoming bus
she will know what to do.

© by Jay Coral
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #15 ~ May 2011    previous poem