Yesterday I Did Not Want To Be

I Am Out Of Practice At Living. You Are As Brave As A Motorcycle.

You Cutting The Lawn, Fixing The Machines, All This Leprous Day And Then More Vodka, More Soda And The Pond Forgiving Our Bodies, The Pond Sucking Out The Throb.

Unless I Can Shake Myself Free Of My Dog, My Flag, Of My Desk, My Mind, I Find Life A Bit Of A Drag. Not Always, Mind You. Usually I'm Like My Frying Pan Useful, Graceful, Sturdy And With No Caper, No Plan.

But My Future Is A Secret. / It Is As Shy As A Mole.

I Wonder If The Artist Ever Lives His Life--he Is So Busy Recreating It.