Poems
by Richard LeDue

 

Just Another Lazy Bastard

 

Watching my pay shrivel up

like a dead plant

I made sure to water

every day,

 

always sure to open

the curtains each morning

so the neighbors could see

I wasn’t dead yet,

 

and I even played Brahms for it

(on a thrift store CD

that multitasked as evidence

of my own frugality).

 

 

 

 

 

Bad Backs Made Worse By Soft Beds

 

Without any grace,

the world makes a strong argument

for dancing with whisky

every night

 

because of all the late buses

with drivers drunk

from ideas of right-of-way,

 

because of all the wrong

weather forecasts

about heatwaves and blizzards,

 

because of all the right

weather predictions

about heatwaves and blizzards,

 

because of the politicians

smiling the same lies

as thirty years ago,

 

when the sun was also dishonest,

promising warmth,

while the future would be

sore knees, bad backs

made worse by soft beds,

aching bones

held together by a truth

no one wants to hear.

 

 

 

 

 

Automatons

 

The people arrive home

at the same time every day,

like perfectly programed robots,

except their metal is skin,

their oil is red,

smelling of old pennies,

and their brains wired

by someone no better.

 

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