Thank God It’s Friday
It seems anymore
the days are ruled by extremes
like horses bolting through
closed barn doors
finding themselves stampeding
the wrong way
Meanwhile back at the Hamburg Inn
a displaced marionette
does the dishes in the back
not benefiting much from $12 pub burgers
dreaming of gigging again
in open air arenas
Along the river
youngsters fish for money with their feet
while old-timers grow out their hair
& practice walking on water
striving to achieve ‘mystic’ status
Down at city hall
hundreds assemble peacefully
singing protest songs
& gathering stones just in case
passersby invariably crossing the street
their eyes looking the other way
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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