Jim Dandy Morning
When I woke up this morning,
was unlike any other day...
when I opened my eyes,
I felt the blue go away;
and this was Monday morning
when the landscapers come
with the yell of lawn mowers
barely heard above
the cacophony,
the symphony,
the consternation,
of the leaf blowers.
Noon-day demon far away,
leaving on a jet airplane,
slipped past the TSA
with my sorrows in a bottle
in his carry-on bag:
in a little toiletry bag,
with tooth brush and shampoo
and all the meds:
grey lady zoloft,
blue niagara,
and sacramental
vicodin there, too.
Why the jet plane? Why the bags?
Traveling in his submarine,
Noon-day don't need no suit...
he's hip...
ready to boot!
When I come home, his brother's there
come from the TV,
come from the air!
yelling the business,
yelling the news!
yelling the weather,
selling smokes and booze!
using fear that maims...
selling disability claims!
using fears of health...
selling schemes of wealth!
Weak morning shine,
oh, weak daylight!
tepid water'd-down sun...
weak tequila sun...
like some star was drunk last night,
did something really stupid,
and cannot will the paparazzi day...
cannot will the day... away.
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