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Old man Phil

Old man Phil

A house
Is a house of course
But a home is a home
Wherever you go
Wherever you come from
Be it roof overhead or
Park row bench
With my pigeon friends
Pondering
Where I go next
Be it plains
In euro Spain
Be it lights
Of Manhattan
skylights
While Shadows hunched over
Singing the blues at night
My home
Against white graffiti wall
Faceless
Women clamor around men
Negotiating favors
And flavors amore
Where is my home
Not here
Mabye there
Hell I don’t care
I don’t know
I see an angel
In disguise
Woopie
Excuse me
Mr. sir
My good man
They call me
Phil
Wonder if you can
Spare a dollar bill
Some change
Want to buy
A bottle of Wild Irish
For old time sake
What do you say my
Friend
Want to rest my head
Weary feet
And dream some
More while I drink
My rose and
Forget where I
am….

 


All rights reserved. Poems may not be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without the permission of A.Camacho Jr. or hudsonpoetry@aol.com

1 Comment

  1. admin 9 months ago

    I like this most

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