LISTEN UP!

Early winter here in your gallbladder.
Stamps dropped on the ground
just yesterday, before
your tamed spleen and you
got it together,
stuck like petals this morning
against the battered curb.

Your gallbladder turns
as the carhorn bleats.

Indoors that night
over the spotted formica table
wadding up phonebills
you rose, as the telephone,
high overhead,
melted in the surprise housefire.
Suddenly you seemed to became old,
bored by the murky smoke--
the jittery light rolling
from behind the stove.
Wherefore this smell of gas?
Boring, boring, boring.
In the absence, you stood there
stiff, outside the worried choice.
Two minutes maybe,
it went on.

Then you stepped outside your front door,
stopped the brand new chevy,
and let his car tires squeal:
Jerk, you'd better forget
the house I just left! Listen up!
Forget you ever saw this!

http://www.poems.com/touchkun.htm