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Poem: Old Times 

there is nothing I can do
about all the trouble I'm in with you.
I could go to the end
and still it wouldn't transcend.

there are some things I remember
that never happened,
and some things that never occurred
that I've since forgotten.
I mean, was it a dream?

it seems like old times
back here at the ranch:
old time, coal mine.
I walk through the door
and enter the grey grim ranks.

although I know I did not give birth to myself
I wish I could be my own parents.
I wish I could go home
but you said no.

I am what other people are thinking,

still an empty vessel at some level.
I sort of get in the mood the other person is in:
if they like me, I like myself
if they don't, I don't either.

even music I love, if someone else is listening
and doesn't like it,
in that moment it doesn't sound good to me.

the most tip top,

old school cool.

the indisputable leader of the gang,

old hat by now.
and people look at you, you know, like you're nuts

or something

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Speaking of Poems, Poetry

  • A poem by David Newman

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