Photograph ©Copyright 2007 by John-Ward Leighton
DROWNING IN THE CLASH?
My personal space
is not running in the race.
Headphones on,
sunglasses on,
you will learn nothing
from the look on my face.
The coffee steams my glasses
cause I'm too old for the classes
John Coltrane takes the lead
and his music is all I need.
The date square disappears
from my sticky fingers
and as I roll though my thoughts
the sweet taste lingers.
I'm thinking of red brick walls
adorned with naked girls
as the smoke rises in smoker's hell
a pooch comes in,
while the homeless wander outside
is there a rule here?
It's hard to tell.
Is this a heaven or is it hell?
Will we all end up in the trash
from listening and
drowning in the Clash?