Goody-Goody
Swimming with the cadavers of the young,
We pledge allegiance to the flag.
We didn’t quite finish school,
But we don’t feel half-bad;
And there’s a bird that doesn’t swim,
And a girl in training wheels quite young in
The retirement home kicked back
Between the palms;
And a good friend of mine takes his paycheck
From the government,
While you come home and cook for him,
And look at him in his eyes,
Goody-goody;
And when I was in the valley listening for the waves,
Weren’t you in a dream I had,
You politely asked me if you couldn’t feed the horses;
But who cares,
You rolled away with him, and the credits rolled
Like caesuras:
I held my hand over my heart; it became that broken
Watch melting in its bows-
Then there was just a prick of sun in the caesuras
And the final scenes they never showed,
As children played a game in the sand:
Goody-goody.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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