A Second Poem: Eccentrics Galore

 

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.