FAT SKILLS Tomorrow I shall visit the City But tonight the Catskill Mountains having kissed away the aches from muscle and gristle and road-weary dogs having filled up my lazy pockets with lazy country club cash now kisses me with lips of summer twilight bathing the forest in that blue-white haze which dulls the eyes but gives birth to fairies now invites me to spend my life dreaming with Rip Van Winkle of the thunder crack of geriatric ghosts playing ninepins never hungry or horny or even keeping score forever content to let the Revolution pass them by But no the Big Sleep is the last gift of age and I live in the age that invented Youth worships it like an altar of horns thrust into the forest floor and I have not yet tramped through all of my forests nor swum through all of my storms nor howled at all of my moons So tomorrow I shall visit the City the Fat City veined with fat avenues where fat cars swim among fat skeletons of cornerstone and steel humming beneath a skin of fat urban lights in a skyline made brilliant by megawatts and megawatts of high-voltage fat of alleyways whispering their fat little secrets to poets writing fat words about fat patrician families guarding the fat of the land and more words for new immigrants hungry for legends of streets paved with fat and I could grow fat eating those words Perhaps I will find myself a fat job earn a fat paycheck browse galleries hung with fat globs of paint and dance off the week's accumulation of calories in nightclubs where you pay for your drinks in rolls and rolls of negotiable fat Join Rastamen smoking fat Jamaican joints Witches weaving fat spells to fat-bellied Godesses Gypsies scrying fat and happy prophesies to fat Stock Brokers ever fighting one another with fat swords of finance over still more fat while old priests kneel in cold cells confessing fat sins to their starving God and musicians blow into their fat jazzy horns for the soul-deep rivers of ordinary men and women who march by whispering of slender lives and fat desires Yes tomorrow I will visit the City But for tonight I will sit up and drink good German beer feed the mountain fairies my gracious good-byes until the first crack of thunder puts me into what will hopefully be a fat mortal night's sleep
Go to the next poem or the previous poem
Return to Table of Contents
This poem is from On Pagan Roads Copyright © 2004 David Arv Bragi