This is a sestina style poem. Enjoy.
An Autumn Skip
On this shiny day I was walking or rather skipping along
when it struck me, something was seriously afoot.
I looked back behind but all I saw was leaves
blowing in the air. Twas only a thought and no more.
Clearly, I’m delusional but, HEY! Who is that now in front
of me with that great big smile? Oh I see it’s just Mr. Cook.
Startled but ecstatic, I wanted to know the health of Mrs. Cook.
He chuckled a good laugh and said, “She dead” and moved right along.
Puzzled, I continued on my jolly old way when I saw gang front
which impeded my progress to waltz from left foot to right foot.
I gave a cheerful wave and things got nasty as there came more
and then more. One in a weird accent told me, “Just leaves.”
I hung a hard left and wondered why he added the “s” to say leaves
but my skipping proceeded and I was on the move, in fact, I was cooking.
My day had been good until I ran out of water. I know I need more.
So I meandered down towards a lake but a car came along
to stop me in my tracks. The window rolled down and out came a foot.
Square in the face it hit me and the ground was now in front.
Confused and bewildered I screamed, “What the front?!”
I know it wasn’t coherent but hell man I’m covered in leaves
and of course there was the imprint on my face of a foot.
I got up to my own two and turned to see it was my cook,
Harold the crack dealer, he knew I’ve been avoiding him all along.
So he grabbed me real close and said, “Money…I need more.”
In high spirits I simply replied, “I know a place, sir. I can get more.”
Shoved into the car I was chunked in the back as Harold was in the front
and one big luck back with me. This crappy old Honda sure got along
because we went at least 120, everything was blurred, even the leaves.
We pulled up at my store called “Thousand Ways To Look”,
ludicrous I know but at least I’m not a doctor of the foot.
Harold and I walked in as my employee said “What’s with the foot
mark?” I said, “Don’t worry just do your damn job! Do more!”
As we weaved through the racks I saw old Mrs. Cook
I was puzzled, she dead or at least that’s what I was told at the front.
Ignoring bafflement I entered the back with wallpaper of leaves
which hid my vault of monies which kept me going along.
Here I knew I wouldn’t last long because I got a swift foot.
Down I went with all the leaves, he ripped it all off and more.
Soon enough I was out front, bleeding, leaving with Mr. and Mrs. Cook.
Created: Jan 16, 2010Document Media