Close the gate
I'm tired.
Don't visit,
I'm not home.
Why should I have to explain?
Now you show up.
I hear your voices.
You come in a group.
You turn on the tap.
I hear the squeak of the faucet.
I hear the water running
Through the pipes.
I go to the door.
There are a lot of you.
Go away.
Can't you see I'm busy?
I'm working on something.
I can't be disturbed.
Follow that path
Through the garden.
Close the gate..
Do I have to come out?
See how I use the banister?
See how my shirt is untucked?
See how the sun makes me squint?
All you young people,
Why do you bother
An old man?
Get a drink of water and go.
Go through the garden.
Leave tracks if you must.
I don't care where you come from
Or what you think of me.
This place is my dream.
Dream your own dream.
Make yourself scarce.
Close the gate.
-- Gary Lindorff
GARY LINDORFF is poet-in-residence at ThisCantBeHappening, the new uncompromising four-time Project Censored Award-winning online alternative newspaper. His work, and that of colleagues JOHN GRANT, DAVE LINDORFF, ALFREDO LOPEZ, LORI SPENCER, LINN WASHINGTON, JR. and CHARLES M. YOUNG, can be found at www.thiscantbehappening.net
(Article changed on August 9, 2014 at 12:13)
