True vanity ignores the mirror,
brushes aside all compliments;
secure in feeling superior
humble to all appearance.

There ain't much fun in being old;
there's little future to unfold;
I hate the winter, wet and cold;
the same old jokes have all been told;
there's no young woman I can hold.

But still I'm stabled, watered, fed;
my bank account is never red;
and though I've been too long unwed,
things could be worse, for when all's said,
it's slightly better than being dead.

Ipanema

While I lie on the beach in the evening sun,
vultures and frigate birds circle the moon.

After an evening of rum and soda

I reached the metro before it closed,

wobbled home to the hostel sofa,

flopped myself down and almost dozed

but then I noticed two strange leaves

on one of the courtyard's potted trees

vibrating in the night-time breeze

(like something seen but never heard)

imitating a humming bird !

It seems to me quite sensible to assume
that european future americans
displayed much more than average initiative
to leave their homelands, sail across the sea
and start a new life. Their descendants would
surely inherit some of that quality in their genes
and that 'get up and go' might then explain
the drive of present day white americans.
So it also seems quite plausible to presume
that african americans should someways
surpass their pale skinned current compatriots.
Perhaps their ancestors showed less initiative
in letting themselves be captured and sold as slaves.
But those that survived the involuntary voyage
across the sea surely had more than average
physical and mental strength which surely would
have survived in the genes of their descendants.
Perhaps it's a pity those genetic qualities
may have been diluted by the murder
of recalcitrant slaves and the sexual
predation of some white slave owners.


.

It's much like dermatitis hatching,

the masochistic pain of itching,

the knowingly harmful joy of scratching -

young women in the disco, leching.

I lie in bed on my side awake
listening to the clock in my ear
ticking the time for my life's sake.

I lie on my side awake in bed
knowing the pulse that I can hear
is consciousness inside my head.

I lie awake in bed on my side
and the ticking clock makes it clear
I haven't slept although I tried.

I lie on my side in bed awake
and try to pacify the fear
my ageing heart makes some mistake.

I lie awake on my side in bed
wondering, in some future year,
if I will know when I am dead.

I lie in bed awake on my side
anxious to sleep but able to cheer
another night that I haven't died.