POETRY
Posted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 7:38 pm
Last Week, by Charles Carreon
In a movie last week
A man spilled soda on me
And I think his eyes were laughing
Like the forests of the moon
As the dictionary rambled
At the dawning of last week
Walking down the street, last week
I saw children on the sidewalk
Drawing pictures of their mothers
Purple chalk on quiet concrete
I ate sherbert mixed with sloe gin
During midday of last week
Turning on my room light last week
The wood floors burned with crimson
And it seems that they were laughing
Like the joker's mask of mourning
Chanting hymns of quiet sadness
In the evening of last week
1969
In a movie last week
A man spilled soda on me
And I think his eyes were laughing
Like the forests of the moon
As the dictionary rambled
At the dawning of last week
Walking down the street, last week
I saw children on the sidewalk
Drawing pictures of their mothers
Purple chalk on quiet concrete
I ate sherbert mixed with sloe gin
During midday of last week
Turning on my room light last week
The wood floors burned with crimson
And it seems that they were laughing
Like the joker's mask of mourning
Chanting hymns of quiet sadness
In the evening of last week
1969