Day: January 6, 2015

Sometimes

Sometimes, I imagine you

How you might look now

How you would style your hair

I picture it long

Like you wore it, the last time I saw you

I’m sure you would still move

With all the same beauty and grace

The likes of which, would make even the great Audrey Hepburn

Quiver, weak in the knees

Your tongue would still hold

All the spit and fire

Which always had me laughing and on my toes

Sometimes I can still see you

While I’m lying in the dark

You, right next to me

And me, with the thoughts that you’d never leave

But, finally, you did leave

You left for the store

And left me alone

I expected you would come back

(Maybe, deep down, I still do)

I thought I would see you again

So I didn’t say good-bye

I didn’t tell you to be safe, or that I loved you

And because of that one foolish mistake

I won’t get a second chance

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

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To The Mexicans, Guatemalans, Hondurans…

Thanks so much for the way you take care of these horses

Their beauty, grace, and theatrics

Are owed, in a large part

To your endless care, endless days

And while I dress in a sportcoat, striped shirt and club tie

I want you to know

That these never-ending, drinkfested, pony-watching days

Wouldn’t be

Without you

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Good Old Days

I can remember all the way back

To the good old days

The times when we were young, stupid and invincible

Moments spent with the underbellies of society

The hookers down in hollywood, who would gamble with dice

And with disease and with the pimps — And even with us

The junkies who could barely lift a finger, but could run with fifty pound tv’s

I can remember the all-night diners

The ones where the parking lots’ lights had been shot out

But was still well-lit, thanks to the spotlight from the cop’s helicopters

I can picture the speakeasies

I don’t mean these nouveau riche puke dives

I remember the real illegal spots, the ones in the abandoned building

The ones who had rats, instead of a doorman

Yeah, just like Archie and Edith Bunker sang about

Those were the days

Those were the good fucking days

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

Weather Report

I got up from the table and peered out the window

The sky was grey, and the palms all danced in high wind

I had planned a peaceful day, reading and writing in the park

Once I get an idea in my head, little will change it

And no matter the weather, I was going to spend a lazy day in the park

But mistakes have taught me to prepare

I think it would do me good to check the weather report

57 degrees, winds from north — gusting at 15 mph

Little chance of sunshine, but no chance of rain

Visibility is 10 miles and the clouds are casting over at 5,500 ft.

Today will be much cooler than yesterday’s 83 degrees

And the sun has plans of setting at 5:44 pm

Sounds all well and good to me

So I’d better stop typing and start moving

I only have six hours and twenty minutes left

Of my perfect park day

And I don’t think I should waste another minute of it

Writing you a weather report

For a town you will most likely never see

© Dicky J Loweman 2015