Bright Blue

I'm angry. You told me we'd be all right
But we are not all right. I'm sick and tired
Of life, of wondering when I'll be fired,
Of worrying about you overnight,
About myself all day; my will to fight
Is gone, my library card is expired,
And this relationship in which we're mired
Stirs unhealthy debate and wicked fright.

It's Hallowe'en again, like yesterday,
Tomorrow, too, day after day, our masks
On fire, our wigs bright blue. Open the casks
And pour the sherry. Then we'll be okay,
As long as I remember what to say
About our love, if anybody asks.

Ceaselessly the Wind Blows

The most ridiculous, disaster-prone,
And loveless individual I've seen?
One insubstantial woman dressed in green
And waving the worst banner ever flown.
It said something in Latin verse, unknown
To recent scholars, something very mean
And coprological, which she was keen
To share with us. We yelled, "Leave us alone!"

She fell, got up, fell down again, complained
About the attitude she always faced,
A sort of hard shell, tempered with distaste,
And claimed that in St. Ives it never rained,
But ceaselessly the wind blows. Then we feigned
Exhaustion, saying we had eaten paste.

Regard

I'm in a grey funk now, distressed by age,
Distracted by an aching in my tooth
And rattling bones, by all the charms of youth
Now vanished, masses of untimely rage —
I should have waited for the later stage
Where anger turns a little more uncouth
And loses all connection to the truth,
Becoming simple scratchings on a page.

Engage the extra brain cells, add some rope,
Replace the aches and rattles with regret
And nonchalance. Sometimes the sun will set
Without our noticing, and we will cope
By trading carelessness for lack of hope,
Regard for disregard. I'm glad we've met.