PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

~California Transplant~

Redwood City holidays meant downtown parades
of drummed-up noise and convertibled queens
where equined cops and tricycled clowns stood guard
for the politic and stars as he bootlegged
firecrackers with his shifty pals.

The first twelve years 
were baseball and dogs, but at thirteen
San Francisco became the scene of a brand new score.
Micro-dot acid copped from a hippy twice his favorite uncle's age
did not disappoint the brain and eye.

Cut bait or catch alternatives caught him by surprise
and then the wedding. "I do's," of course, then a rum, coke,
and meatloaf reception rounded out the day. Twenty-one
and woozy, he crushed the spread.

Alone at seventy,

he lives for bell-bursts from the gates, thunderous clomps
of home-stretch hoofbeats between the rail and board.
There's crumpled ticket waste at his feet, then the street-ward
limp with fear in his coat. The escalator ride down
would be safer with a handhold on someone,
but no one is betting someone will show.

D. B. Tompsett