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"Rustic Ink" "Rustic Ink"
by David Barger
2009-06-16 09:09:54
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I find that I am no longer elastic
As nightmares swamp my sleep;
My toenails are not painted
Merely stained from being dipped in ink.

My youth took on a more dominate role
Lingering about the age of Broadway.
It seemed an extremely small part,
But the director insisted it was brilliant for me.

The crystal jar by the door is broken
Leaving a jagged crack in sharp display
Where I use to keep my important dreams,
All right, my only dreams secured by a copper lid.
Now they are gone,
Must have ran away to the traveling circus
The kind that use to come around town
When grandma was a little girl with pigtails.

The windmill in my mind picks up with speed
So I weigh it down on a bologna sandwich
Topped with a layer of mayo.
Maybe that is why my joints seem rustic.  

  
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