Ruminations of the Troubadour…by Joie Cook (day 2)


No longer captive
In the Kingdom of Goretex
One by one,
Each friendship returns—
Like a ‘police line do not enter’ tape
After a shooting

Too old to live
Too young to die
Falling piece by piece apart
Into the unforgiving rain

Escaping a town
Where politeness is a social disease
Far from home
I ponder Fisherman’s Wharf
The clink of quarters
Into my brown bottle in 1972

“If people are cruel,
be kind anyway”—

Learn to give and expect nothing
Wedged between dreams
And their interpretation
The poignant separations
For which we lay ourselves down

Joie Cook
2/08   S.F.

2 Responses to “Ruminations of the Troubadour…by Joie Cook (day 2)”

  1. richard stone Says:

    a true troubadour
    if one ever knew
    whistling scintillating chords
    at the moon
    while kitty-kats
    drift dreamily upstream
    into sleepless nights
    through the light of day

  2. Dave Picariello Says:

    What is left for us at the end of this lifetime but to find the poignant separations for which we are placed in our final repose…these ruminations only deepen within the lines of age and character as they crease their way across the forehead of our hopes and dreams…love to love you always your Honey Bear Dave

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