Thursday, January 6, 2011

inside out

in the land of inside out
I felt awash in gentle rhythms
like a rinse cycle

danced a thousand tangos with toucans
I so wanted to understand their laws
of gravity and traffic

I kidnapped a cop
made him drive in circles
while I tossed apples at taxi cabs

the drivers cursed me in Dutch
gave me money 'til I was rich as a cat
and ate spider plants for water

I'll never own a fur coat
so fine as my cat coat
in the land of inside out


Peter Greene said...

A very pleasing little verse, Jon; thank you for it. Cat coats. Rich Dutch cat coats, cursed, with cocoa - away I go, before the poetry police come. Thank you for this gem of a dream of a thing - it's a poem I like.

Claudette Cohen said...

Me too.

Jon said...

Old 333,
Thanks fellow Canuck! Hope all is well on the West coast.


Unknown said...


Your poem is like an argument started by three old friends vying, at a family style lunch, to be the first to be generous with the last piece of chicken. The first stuff that doesn't make sense, is the skeleton of normalcy, and received opinion. What the opposite of inside out?
I loved that you kidnapped the cop, and there is a whiff of the Greek's in your apples. Though, really, I have no idea.
Your poem reminds me of the richness of our human desire, hurt, and breathtaking hope.