Still Trying

What are the words,
meaning there,
when rage held in?

Shrill, amplified guitars 
from the mill house
behind this one,
AM radio rock slamming in
from the front,
have used me up.

Mind sucked into them.
Words newly written,
don't do, only say.

Want to float away 
with firm-thigh girl
suddenly remembered from month ago,
passed in a glance.

Instead hear radios blare:
“SUBSTANCE OR SPECTACLE! 
THE FUTURE BELONGS TO WHOEVER
CAN BUY IT!”

“AND THE POOR MAN'S WISDOM IS DESPISED!”
I shout, vanishing from all of it

into the hot shower, 1968,
Moody Blues insist
Thinking is the best way to travel.

Still broke
as I was then; still
riding my mind, know
I'm doing more than
putting time in before dying.

from After I'm Dead, Will My Life Begin?. Copyright © James Humphrey Trust.

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