Wednesday, 29 February 2012

My Life with Rockstars by Pat Smith

I’m learning to play a stringed instrument
Shaped like an uprooted tree
For an outdoor drama about Keith Richards
Aging into the Statue of Liberty
The Beatles of course are my old pals
Lately we’ve been meeting up again
At school play practice and such
They seem a little down, at loose ends
I see my golden opportunity
I tell them they can do anything
You know, anything you want
What do you want to do?
We linger on a broken set
Bare frames and crumbled stone
Flowered bathrobe, cigarette
Empty ashes from my espadrille
John smirks, says he could call Yoko
Ringo says there is a requirement
First you have to have a feeling
Weave me a rug
That blossoms in winter
Grow flowering grasses
From a comfortable couch
Pull off the dead pine boughs
Shiver the plastic dolls and cars
Until the toys are shiny shards
George practices sirsasana
On a pile of dust
For all of us warriors
Scared and scarred
Who curse into our hands

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