by Walter R. Milton



A childhood dream fulfilled.

The end of higher education.


My soul’s color so chilled.

Gleaming with no justification.


Leave the ladies quite thrilled.

But today I ride alone.


Clouds fill this hot, humid day.

The threat of rain doesn’t exist

Just a reminder of what’s possible

But not necessarily bound to pass.


As I awake, I yawn, say:

‘What can or will become of this

Yet another day so starkly miserable?

Oh why do I even dare ask?’


I know what this day will bring.

Same as always: self-pity, abasement,

A malignancy in my blackened soul

Fears that I just cannot shake.


Always the same ole thing

More time, money uselessly spent

Memories fly by about the days of old

Waiting for something new to break.


Waiting: my most favorite pastime.

Passed time -- far too many regrets

O what to do! What to do!

Bored to tears quite needlessly.


Suddenly I hear the chime

What a time for retrospect!

What a time to forget, too!

I slowly turn the key.


Five liters start to breathe again.

I sigh: the sound of salvation

Two-hundred twenty-five ponies kick

And away we go. To where?


Environment controlled, hermetic within,

I turn her toward our destination

But our pace is not too quick

I wish to enjoy this day’s fare.


Girlies wave as I move on by

I know them some but I know them.

From when I used to walk.

No waves then, though, I recall.


My steed, the homies all green espy

How I got her, they’re wonderin’

I know about what they talk

But it’s not like that at all.


I worked to make her mine

Was reared to be the best I can

Not to hurt others, peddle bad stuff

Disgrace the name that I bear.


They speak with reason, no rhyme,

To belittle me, a lucky brother man

Of that shit, I’ve had quite enough

So I smile to match their sneers.


I have to stop for gas, though

And ease into my favorite station

Not really, it’s just close to home

And offers a high enough octane.


I give the cashier the dough,

Check her breasts with much veneration

She sits in the booth all alone

Behind a bulletproof windowpane.


So much like a caged animal

She inspires me on many levels

I appreciate again my wanderlust.

Not to mention lust and youth


Soon the tank is quite full

Pockets depleted for my day’s travels.

Collect my change, admire her bust

I laugh at my thoughts uncouth.


The pony and I ride once again

On roads uneven and pock-marked

Each jolt is a sledgehammer blow

But so’s life in the big city.

(c) Nov. 1991