by Michael Igoe
I want you to rise up,
as if from sleep,
feel the same wakefulness
you get when you’re drowning.
You must rise in bliss,
let yourself play in traffic.
You need to take part,
in the multicolored parade,
a vast opportunity to roast.
Off the back porch,
covered by your britches
I want the shirt off your back.
Please fade into ancient hotels
sip black coffee while you clean.
Michael Igoe, Chicago – now Boston. Numerous publications in journals online and print. Corrections counseling and work with emotionally disturbed children. Member of the Democratic national committee. Urban realism/surrealism. “I like the night.” Follow Michael online @MichaelIgoe5, or check out his work in the latest Avalanches in Poetry collection.
(And for more, see Michael’s poem Hard Rule Enclosing from the December 2, 2019 Weekly. – Elephants Never)