Beantown Prose Poem -- The Muse Mongers Motel Poetry Archives

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Subject: Beantown Prose Poem

Author:
andy

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Date Posted: 14:04:16 01/15/08 Tue

Beantown Prose Poem

The Parker House serves oysters on the half shell,
a three piece jazz band in a callers bar below,
we flew here from our past, just to watch the pigeons fly,
as humans we must solve our hunger, in little bites
I feel mine fade, there we sit so near the harbor,
but the pigeons here they do not fly, they peck and peck
at little fragments of waste upon the old brick street.

Beantown is a city of a countless stories over-told,
for me it's not the history but the quaintness of its charm,
that draws me here to the inlet, to feed the ducks stale bread,
while others pay to hear some tale of Paul Revere, come to life.

Logan Airport buzzes busy in it's chore to land and fly,
if I could go back to Love would you come along for free?
No duties in the moods that change us, or coming on...s misplaced,
would you travel without hang-ups, just to touch a world that breathes?

Someone asked me yesterday if I felt my life worth while,
"Do you mean right here today?" Accussed of side-step
I laughed freely, for if I didn't then I'd cry,
it's all a mood that takes you nowhere, and nowhere
is no place for me, let it fall where pieces may, each
voice be heard beyond the noise, as one to one we
find our way, in between our differences, that make
us what we aren't at times, so hollow are most conversations,
and ducks don't care at feeding time.

Onward now to the Garden, where I watch a game,
that plays much smoother than the one we mastered,
it moves much faster than we can, she is just a day away,
and Logan brings back memories, of asking her if she would,
consider one more chance at love.

Feed the ducks sir, and be happy, they can bring you joy as well,
they survive off the leftovers, and never, ever, once complained.

ajs

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