Scattered Showers
Just spent some time
poking around the internet.
             It looks like there’s a lot of new stuff
going on.
 
Threw away my Mucky Duck t-shirt.
Didn’t fit.  Nothing does
 
except this black polo
and these pleated white chinos.
 
It looks like there’s a lot of stuff getting worn out,
just judging from the dumpster in the alley.
 
If that’s any indication.
 
So dorky.
 
Got a note from a friend in Parsippany:
“No thanks.”  It’s OK.
I hear they’re having rain out there. So?
 
There are more than 300 million people in this
fair country, and there’s lots of rain everywhere.
 
Doesn’t it all seem just like scenery.
 
Increasing cloudiness late in the day.
 
Like, I might be driving along, and the
iPod might shuffle to that one Smiths song:
why now?  Here, where the road
   gracefully descends to Applebee’s,
where the trail ends
 
in
 
I can’t remember. That part is blacked out.
The movie ended without even ending.
I mean, it ended without music or credits:
 
a fluttering of film and then its snapping
    against the projector.
 
So I write back: “The feeling is mutual.”
 
    Or that’s what I’m of a mind to write,
but I have to assume there are more days ahead.
 
Lame.
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