Carl

 

Carl is 72.

He smiles with a knowing grin, like he has heard and seen everything, from toothless w****s walking the dirt alleys of war, to beachfront castle type sunsets, all busting and blasting with purples and blues. 

He’s an old Rail man, a Switcher since retired, and he is

unique.

 

 

 

the s can lin e s   move too s l o   w

 

 

so, i don’t watch t.v.

 

it hurts.

 

 

i pre fer to feel

the page s smooth fiber s,

in between my       finger s,

hear the re-read at my own       pace

 

 

no. I don’t have an e-mail address.

and yes, I go to the teller,

 

Alexandra,

with the yummy smile, hair

dark and sheen, deep wood stained eyes.

 

 

never played that,

but, i like   pin b a   l   l.

 

the news paper, folded     my arm.

 

another, my favorite novel rustles,

shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh..

beneath and warm.

 

 

got a '46 Royal type writer,

ribbon get ting   w o r n, but

she’s smooooooth

 

don’t need much,   but i love my radio.

station near here plays

allllllll the greats,

 

and willy helps me 

if I need it, or

when we go to the bar,

 

 

 

anythin’ else?

 

 

 

 

naww, just looks like a, BRIGHT

   buncha

   lines.

gives me a headache.

 

i don’t mind not havi n g t h e

expense

no cable bill, sata-light, whatever.

 

naww, I do fee,      left            out

sometime s

‘specially when the conversations are about,

some SHOW,

some, web-sight,

 

feels like

i don’t speak, english,

like i’m stupid.

 

it hurts.

 

but, Alexandra, don’t seem to mind….

 

 

 

Reviews

[Greyson Davison]

I like this poem a lot dad

[Heather Angelika Dooley]

This is so random that it is priceless. I love how you turn scattered thoughts into art!