Gut Rumbles
 

April 14, 2008

Sunday evening

Originally published August 10, 2003

Little tiny cars and trucks
all turned upside down.
What are those things doing here
with no kids hanging 'round?

I'm a grown man now-a-days
I don't play with toys
All the stuff that's scattered there
Belongs to those two boys.

One's my son and I don't know
What he does when he's away.
That's why the sun sets hard on me
Every other Sunday.

I watched him eating watermelon
Spitting out the seeds
Then I threw him in the swimming pool
Yeah, that's all that he needs

A dose of dad like water
That runs right off his back
Let's get home by 6:00
And slowly fade to black.

The Crackerbox is hollow now,
My boy has gone away.
That's why the sun sets hard on me
Every other Sunday.

Poetry isn't my speciality, but you ought to hear the melody that goes with this one. A-minor. Sounds very mournful, which is the way it was meant to be.

Comments
Post a comment














*Note: If you are commenting on an older entry, your
comment will not appear until it has been approved.
Do not resubmit it.