Ode to 1958

A disillusioned teacher juggles egos
at the Palm Beach County Fair,
1958.

He flips torches,
eats fire,
then burns all the important papers
at the county court house.

The Lobster Man
and the Lobster Man's daughter
dine at a seafood restaurant
somewhere off Military Trail.

My brother,
youngest polo player in the history
of Palm Beach County,
scores the winning goal,
achieves stardom
at the impressionable age of 16.

Then, poetry, ah, the roughest teacher of them all
stops by to share a cigarette.

Undoes the silk buttons to her silk blouse,
leans close to breathe elusive wisdom into his ear.

Poetry, with the eight marble legs of a Greek goddess,
knows intuitively just how elusive wisdom can be,
without her web of mythology
nearby to catch it.

Goldilocks

an angel, who has disemboweled
his god,
now dines on the succulent innards.

Afterwards, much like the blue wolf,
he marks his territory
with two-thousand-tissue-thin years
of religious dogma.

In matters such as this,
being a simple man will not protect you
from a large, hungry bear
prowling your kitchen cupboards.

-- Alan Britt