poor poetry…


Wrestled down the wind this morning.
Divided the spoils into unequal parts,
some for the sailor,
some for a friend from down South,
some for fun later that night.
Kept a part to prove the story true,
didn’t want to have to keep answering
all the same old questions
about how it was done
or why.

Lifted up my piece of wind,
so’s to see it better in the sunlight.
Examined closely,
for marks of manufacture,
hoping to find out
where the wind was
when it wasn’t blowing here,
where it comes from,
where it goes.

Still don’t know, maybe afraid to
hazard a guess.
I could assume, but why bother?
Someday I’ll just get up before the sun,
follow the breeze in the car,
find out where it starts and ends,
how it’s made,
and why.

Tried to sell a part of the part
that I kept as proof
I wrestled down the wind.
Nobody I could find
was dumb enough
to pay for what you can get for free.

Got up too late in the morning
to follow the wind today,
better luck tomorrow I’m sure,
if not I’ll just have to
wrestle it down again,
put the question down hard,
get some answers
from that whistling

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