A study in Poetry

Mad Men, Love, and Rockets

The next day,
He awoke with sleeping dogs beneath his bed.
The sky was blue and the sun was shining.
His son played with a ball just outside the window.

He stretches and attempts to stand
Only to fall flat on his face.
The dogs awaken alarmed, barking wildly.
The stepmother rushes into the room

with the stranger holding a loaded shotgun in the doorway.
"Whatever your plan is, it better not require legs." She spoke at his side
"Not mine at least." The Nomad replied with a groan
"You must've lost your mind in that place."

"I lost my mind a long time ago..."
Mildly disappointed, the stranger lowers his gun and returns to rest.
"And your ability to walk apparently." The stepmother concludes.
The Nomad looks out the window.

The sun is shining and his son is running trying to catch,
The ball. Tossing it up and down, up and down.
The stepmother helps him back into bed as the nomad asks her
"Did you ever find your mother?"

"You know that answer..."
"C'mon, I wanna hear ya say it!"
"Yes! Yes I did. Now rest, you better be able to walk again soon."
"Alright."

Every night is restless,
He knows the storm is coming.
He knows there's nowhere left to run.
The end is near.

It's clear.
But the next day is so beautiful.
And he's unable to move.
He looks to his bedside to find the stranger had left a gift.

Two actually,
The first a cane.
The second a gun
With one bullet. It had a note "Are you insane?".

He thought to himself as he made his choice,
"Sure, but then again if weren't I really would be insane."
Reaching only just far enough to get a firm grip,
Of a cane.

He gets up and limps over to the next room,
Where the stranger is resting in a chair, making love to his coffee and gin.
"Lovely note you left me, are you insane?!"
"Hey! He's up! Just wanted to make sure really weren't."

"Sure."
The fireplace goes dark as the stepmother and eighth son return
From the gloom
Approaching fast outside.

She spoke briefly "It's time." in the tone of doom
"Shit!" The stranger replied as he stands, spilling his coffee.
"You didn't hear that, kid." The Nomad starts
"Get to the car, I'm driving."

"You're nuts if you think I'm going to let you drive!" She argued
"Is this really the time to argue?" The Stranger intervenes
Tossing him the keys
The Nomad limps out to drivers seat as rain begins to downpour.