child on a beach

so far as being a leftist bourgeois
who left his wife for the bar
and an endless party:
had i known this accusation
i would have been greatly relieved.
i was no more than a lost child on a beach
searching for an answer to a question
so far out of reach,
combing my thinning hair
to where
it could best show my face.
a man i didn't know said that art should be abstract
but he overlooked a simple fact:
it should be direct,
more appropriately understood like a penis fully erect.
he asked to inspect the gold watch chain
on my coat lapel.
but i had nothing to gain
so refused
and then moved
to continue my lunch at a different table.
i had a friend die by not knowing he wanted to live.
he wouldn't answer his phone:
my only complaint is i had something important to give.
i wanted to show him
a compromise
which i thought was wise.
when a lonely woman asked for her second whiskey
after her third beer,
she never explained to me
how it would help her return to the land of her birth.
i wrote a short story trying to explain
how it all fit together and they wanted more detail
but i had nothing to gain
so refused
and then moved
to continue my meal in a nearby farm house.
within a week i had a wild idea
to eat a literary mouse.
i dressed in my tailored tuxedo
instead of a comfortable Speedo
and thought of myself as the cat in the hat.