Monday, 22 October 2007

Blood But Where's the Love

Been rackin' up the reasons for appointing new relations
Although we share a last name, there's no other fascination.
Too much silent conversation--hit our forties--still not friends.
Interrupted a volcano--quips of lava--can't pretend.

Would you like to see an office from the inside?---workaholic.
You spend your time vacationing- a partial alcoholic.
Daily, I vacation--watching Thomas trains collide.
Pancakes and complaining when I will not let him fry.

Call her twice a year--that's two calls more than she calls me.
Stopped with leaving messages--hang up before the beep.
Reddened shoes like Dorothy six thousand miles away.
Sprawled amongst the shoppin' malls--the city with the hay.

Come New Year, I will see her if I want or if I don't.
Her hubby slug will be there but, the mistletoe it won't.
Trippin' over presents that her lovely--he has bought.
Me, I'll get a pencil case--somewhere to put my thoughts.
He bothers with the neighbors--smiling, pours the best of drinks.
A drop for Mum and I? Our glasses never clinked.

They're livin' in their bubble. Let's hope it doesn't burst.
It could do but, it's slim that they have time to read my verse.
Tv, job, then Costco, then a restaurant, and tv.
Ain't got Jack to say to me. Don't share the same routine.

"Joanne?" She draws a blank--five years of paintings on her walls.
This one to upstairs bathroom. It really is too small.
Couldn't you have asked? "But I've framed them"--so emphatic.
"And you don't have the space for them--your tiny little attic."
Your hubby slug's observant--says it's just like "Rich Man-Poor Man."
Guess he's done some reading--better treated by a doorman.

She thinks I'm doin' nothin' with my miles.
Counts the dollars as she sits comparin' piles.
Blood, but where's the love? I've givin' up to think.
Sinking ever further on the brink.

(Actually, rereading this years later. I got on my with sister and we didn't fight. Then again, she had a cough.)

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