Good Days Bad Days

Good Days Bad Days long poem

Photo by Beverly & Pack


The fat man falls into bed
he likes to go to bed early
with the fan on – the white noise
is his ally and the moving air
his adversary
so he wraps his excess
in windings of blue satin blankets

On a good day events dissolve –
true, the evil hour
when he must wake and journey
to work gets closer, a patient
angler reeling him in,
but on a good day it’s painless
the hook set
in nerveless scar tissue
a lump on his meaty lip
he massages with his tongue

He likes to be on his back
but only to start
his snoring encourages him
sleep is easy
dreams slip in as complete
stories not scenes
they puzzle him
like a delicious dish
made from milk
and graying leftovers –
his own droning buzz
wakes him up
as the memories of alien life
slip silver back
into the unconscious stream

He turns onto his side eventually
a cut log
to roll uncaring
to the bottomland
picking up mud and bits of bracken
arriving with a whump
and a whiff of a dozen scents
crushed and combined
memories rendered as figments
his experience viewed
like the pearly fragments
inside a kaleidoscope

on a bad day none of this happens
breaths and heartbeats exist
counted with accountancy
fantasies are fractured
by tasks left undone
and every itch
is a canker
full of the seeds
of disease

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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