A PRISON RUN BY LOVE
I wondered what was meant
by the guy who said it, it enchanted
me and I wondered what would it be like,
instead of lining up at a mess station
where a fat matron, a big mole on her cheek
would spoon out some slop saying
‘move along and if you don’t like it
see the warden, don’t complain to me’
they would have beautiful women
who would escort you to your
dining table and get you things
and these beauties would accompany
you to your cell and sleep with you
if you behaved that day, that would
be nice and make up for the boredom,
you’d have a trainer who’d help
you get strong and recommend
good books and movies you could see.
I’d like to a go to a place like that.
even though it would be a prison.
Maybe that guy said it in a dream.
How to ride an elevator
Try to be going up,
it’s more inspiring
’cause you know
where you’re going,
or perhaps not
what awaits you.
Don’t get on if
there are already
four or more people.
If there’s a dog on
already be careful
not to step on its paws.
Don’t make eye contact
you may learn something
you’re not prepared for.
Don’t hum a happy tune,
it’s annoying & someone
may join in or stop you.
So don’t start, just don’t
start.
GOATS IN TREES
Sounds impossible.
There in Morocco.
If I were still there
I might find a place
where I could catnap,
or cry about love
or the job I lost,
or just throw a nut
down on the people.
That’d be real good.
Make room for me goats.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Gene Goldfarb lives in New York City, where he ponders, love, hate, mortality and what’s up with the guy who hangs around the building. He loves movies, books, travel, and international cuisine. His poetry has appeared in the small press including: Black Fox, The Daily Drunk, The Gorko Gazette, Rat’s Ass Review.
Image generated on Stable Diffusion
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