Forgotten by a Departing Circus, Long ago

They mean well

and their hearts

are titanium-plated.

They're lactose intolerant

and can't read

more than two pages 

of Homer.

They often admit 

to forgetting how

to do long division 

with a pad and a pencil

and almost never

establish dominance

over salesgirls and bookkeepers.

 

When painted into corners,

they become exhibitions,

but are rarely exhibitionists,

except when holed up 

in certain motel rooms

in fly-over country

under foreign aliases.

 

They believe Sundays

are for

psychological regressions,

Wednesdays for reading

undisciplined, hackneyed satire,

Saturdays for losing 

a piece of their past,

Tuesdays for examining

lingering inner conflicts,

Thursdays for listening

to frothy pop confections,

Fridays for looking

into the tinted windows

of nearby cars,

Mondays for thinking seriously

about retirement.

Reviews

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks Michael. Your heart is definitely gold-plated, don't anyone tell you different.

[Michael Sun Bear]

Ah Philip, you are such a delight! I was certain the poem was about me until I reached the point of being holed up in “certain motel rooms….” I have never used a foreign alias, foreign girl, another matter. Your lines “when painted into corners, they become exhibitions” are going to remain with me quite a while, they’re brilliant. Thanks, Philip