All That is Left

The rain. The dusk. The lone bassoonist. Sacked by a summer wind.

Brought home a sandwich of lost sidewalks. Out of a job, yet bookishly good looking.

If I was ever to the point, it was not in this poem.

If ever there was a point, it was not me that made it.

All that is left
Is chance,

Impossible
Solemn chance.

And love is

Your underwear on backwards. When it’s on at all.

19 thoughts on “All That is Left

  1. “If I was ever to the point, it was not in this poem.

    If ever there was a point, it was not me that made it.” – These lines tickle me, I can’t say why!

    Also, I’m not sure you can put a bra on backwards, it wouldn’t work 🙂

    An enjoyably discombobulating poem, Bob (no pun intended).

    Liked by 1 person

  2. What a treat this is Bob…..”brought home a sandwich of lost sidewalks.” What a line. I’m reminded me of long walks in no particular direction that provide some relief from a cycle of negative thoughts. Inspires me to do just that – start taking long walks again. And the underwear line, “when it’s on at all” Hilarious. A future bumper sticker? – “Nudity is encouraged!” Happy Kerouac birthday. I’m about to raise up a toast!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m really looking forward to warmer weather and taking those long walks. I do get out in the winter and it’s not so bad, but summer walks are the best. I think a walk does for me what others get out of meditation. Glad you liked the underwear line. I get nervous about humor, I guess it go flat. Happy Birthday Jack!! Dharma Bums… still the best title ever.

      Like

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