What's it like? You take it from me, kid, the old dinger don't raise up like he used to for a squint at every nice growntup piece moseying down the main, not no more -- no, sir. But it ain't so bad. Wasn't nothing but a pain in your nut anyways when he used to pop up all the time with nowhere to put him, nothing but grief, the same old crazy goround, don't think I don't remember. By the Jesus, boy, it ain't so bad at all without all that, specially since a tit still gives me a real good feeling, but like it's mental, not in the gut, you understand? So I see some young broad trotting along the asphalt hurrying somewheres, her boobs jigging a little under her sweater, nice and not too big, now ain't that a good sight to see? No question. You bet your ass. Why, it makes me feel warm like, like sunshine all over and me up setting on a bench in Hillside Park just watching the kids skim them saucers, or the girls doing hopscotch, or anything, it don't matter, just so it's spring and a sunny afternoon. What I mean I can still glom onto the things that make life worth living and sex still has something to do with it, and always will, even if I ain't been too sharp at explaining. Life's a doozy, that's how I see it. Well, this here's called nine-ball. Is we playing or ain't we? Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MINERVA JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CONTRA MORTEM: THE WATER by HAYDEN CARRUTH HOW THEY GO ON by JAMES GALVIN THE IMPORTANCE OF GREEN by JAMES GALVIN ARMOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHRISTMAS AT INDIAN POINT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |