Bathtub Poetry

I sit among shampoos
Waiting for the phone to ring
Or an alarm to go off
Or Birds to sing
I wait here with the blues
Just sitting with shampoos.

There are soaps and mops and some.
The others two in one.
Conditioner and shampoo
And I can't stop thinking about you.

A bit of dust can cost a life
If choked or lodged or snorted
Yet to that death so murderous
How could that dust've resorted?

Cancel the eggs!
The waitress cried
So down, so used,
So plastered
Yet stopping by
The frencher-fry
Had hit my tongue
Disastered.

A loud buzzing noise
Filled the house
Like a trap
Or a tree
Or a mouse or a grouse.

The baker needs an ashtray
That's good enough for me.
The faker said it was ok
And frightened me with glee.
And Carol asked "what's happenin'"
And Kevin piped right in
It's the sort of sweetness
That follows after sin.
And someone asked to see me
On that over-thought lagoon
Because here in the alleyway
There isn't any room.

The rifwag enthralled for it had appalled
The incredulous bungling dee.
And I thought it implicit that I be explicit
From two o clock until three.
And simply stare-down
The vicious home-town
Against Monopoly.

Feet
Feet Feet Feet.
Lots of feet
Hundreds of
Dozens of
Neat feet.

Oh, Gentile moisturizing hydrology
Used by professionals.
The scandal of sandals
The mute-paste of toothpaste!
The evils of weevils!
The clippings of toenails
Have you not heard?
Everyone's washing a new kind of saucing
And those shinies bring not a single container of salt
Nor a drop of blood
Nor a bite of food.

Which witch did you watch,
When you washed out my socks?
Hold harder a new kind of rude ruthless nudity.
Have you not heard dear?
The dirt-filled conundrum
Can make and brake and withstand years
Of layered frostings.
The frostings are watching my hands with their sticky
Sensation inside your
Patience is waning when feigning
away
Not today
Not tomorrow
Nor
Lost
Watch
Socks
Stops.

One More Cup of Coffee

Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight, your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie.
But I don't sense affection
Or gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
Nor to the stars above.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee before I go
To the valley below.

Your daddy he's an outlaw
A wanderer by trade.
He'll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food.

Your sister sees the future
Like your mama and yourself
You've never learned to read or write
There's no books upon your shelf.
And your pleasure knows no limits
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like the ocean
Mysterious and dark.

One more cup of coffee for the road...












-Dylan