Here is a second poem I recently wrote. I consider myself an eccentric, so no insult is meant by that world. Most autistics are seen as somewhat eccentric. I've known a lot of characters through the course of my life, and decided to feature them all. Hopefully no one will recognize themselves.
Eccentrics Galore
Arnie the can man
gave up jobs long ago
to become the returnables 10 cents
Santa Claus of city Streets
growing old with sticky hands
among the bus lines and wooden chairs
Bearded professors in smeary glasses
gave him a nod and handed their Pepsi cans over
to go into the endless lines of black bags.
Serena of the suburbs
lined up the carnival glass to catch
the rainbows in the window.
Estate sales overflowed her house,
Amber jewelry a million years old
glistened with plastic fluidity strung out on threads
hanging on nails on the walls.
1910 mission tiles broken
among silk scarves
Boxes piled to the ceiling
clothing dating back to1980,
every outfit
a capture of a day
no matter how worn.
Maggie of the old motel
sits in her apartment,
in her square 70s owl-eyed glasses
peering through time,
and soap operas and spaghetti Os for dinner.
Sleep fill her days.
Patches on a jacket, time in a jar.
Polish cabbage and John Paul II
as tethers to heaven.
Teaching the children of the others
how to shine bright
instead of fading away.
Roy of the boonies
surfed the Counter-Culture wave for eternity,
a nomad with wizard stick
and polished agate rings,
and keys to the cab
and poetry on the rocks
drunk down with an alfalfa chaser.
His room full of disciples sought to please for coffee
and protest for redemption.
Sally of the shopping mall
filled her house with jailbirds and pianos
burning money with a match
while eating General Tso's chicken in
a cloud of grief on the path of Dionysus
feet buried in hot sand
to forget.
Nate and his bird nose wife built a compound
on the edge of Appalachia,
with Mayan motorcycles
and plastic barrels filled with dried eggs
The apocalypse of the factory time cards, and
happy smiles in Mayberry
replaced with head coverings
and Dr. Bonner's soap
The end of the world went too
slowly.
Carrie of the wild west,
loved Buster Keaton who dodged a whole house,
head popping through the window
while she remained encased within.
Snappy hats, serious face and jagged steps
Her mother eclipsed, and took her pens away.
Her stories delayed until the next life.
Louise of everywhere saw through the matrix
knowing the Fermi Paradox was true
the Victorians sung songs in long dresses
weaving hair into memories
in the world made by hand
Mother Nature would win
The Truman door on the end of the stage
was open, never to be closed.
