Edgar Allan Poe

of course a horse with no name

came into view:

I was reading the morning paper

after eating breakfast and tying my reluctant shoe.

in the background played a Johnny Cash song

about a Folsom Prison Blue

and the ring of fire burning red.

see, I remember climbing out of bed

and hearing my golden-haired dog cough

and the table top alarm going off.

well, what's it all about?

I heard a voice like Janis Joplin shout!!

she was wearing a string of pearly beads,

complaining of her urgent needs,

but no stick up artist was waiting nearby.

no overhead blue bird sky.

no shooting star,

but a Sunday night TV and a Mercedes car

both went speeding past.

I wondered if my coffee would last

longer than these damn memories flooding in from my past?

what time will the holding company begin holding me

in its' arms with a cup of hot organic green tea?

in my mind, there's a burning cigarette filled with nicotine and memories of smoke,

laughing at a stupid comment which I took to be a joke

but Edgar Allan Poe didn't know which way to go,

either; so like a rolling stone,

we both hoped to be alone

gazing at eternity.