June 30th, 1978
12:00 noon
poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
"Losing the Game" Cathy poem
"Let's all smoke a ton of pot
and fantasize bout what we're not."
A few weeks ago
Inspiration, in the guise of a
tall young woman named Cathy -
Flooded my cranium with imagery
When she boarded the plane
She took all that imagery with her
The past few days
I've let the apt. go to hell
I've let myself go to hell
It's like -
When she was part of my life
(even such a small part -
and so insignificant to her)
I could dedicate myself to her -
But now who cares -
She's not around
The memories are fading
Except for the one which hurts the most
How will it be at our "reunion"
What will God's sign for me be?
Or has he already given it
I'm just a foolish crazy person
Who falls in love with perfection -
Only to find that perfection
Shuns foolish crazy people
I always think I'm about to lose -
then I draw a straight flush
And the dealer falls asleep.
Inspiration is dead
The coroner announced it last week
Some time
I feel like one of those countless
shells lying on the white sand -
devoid of the creature which gives me
my existence.
I think I'm the only one
But as I lok around I see
thousands of little shells
- Wait
I was always a little shell -
Waiting for a little girl to
Come along an gather me in her bag
But Cathy only stopped and
Listened to me for awhile
and
said
"how sad"
then
left
I'll wait through the summer
to find out if it's for good.
copyright 2001 Michael F. Nyiri
