Driving west from the beach
it could have been George Clooney
head and shoulders draped
backwards over a chaise,
napping and sunning at the pool,
if it weren’t for the bus stop bench
identifying itself as such with a sign
and the Winn-Dixie cart
full of worldly possessions
sitting along-side instead
of the coaster glass top table,
the morning bloody-Mary
and the designer umbrella.
George could most certainly
look this content,
snoring, feet up, as though
he had a Golden Globe
and owed himself this decadence,
if it weren’t for the holes
in the muddied boots,
the grease stains on the cargo shorts
and the distinct need of a shave.
It seemed poignant that
the high-end condos
just behind George most assuredly
looked on the same sun, clouds
and blue sky as well as
the same choreographed “v” of geese
flying north overhead
as his siesta stop-over.
Don’t disturb George, he’s in character….!
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Craig,
You definitely have put things in the proper perspective.
Love it!
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Hi Craig
What a well crafted poem with nuance, observant detail and sharp premise! Indeed it could have been George Clooney except for
“if it weren’t for the bus stop bench
identifying itself as such with a sign
and the Winn-Dixie cart
full of worldly possessions
sitting along-side instead”
I really like the way you build the comparison here besides someone way down on their luck and the famous celebrity. A clever use of words and images, allow us to see George’s counterpart, his poor doppleganger overshadowed by those beach side condo and sun. I enjoyed this poem and thank you for posting it!
My Best,
Wendy
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