I, Too, Sing the Body Electric Bellevue Blues By Sy Roth
I smell them
Their contrail of ambergris and lilac essence
Whips along behind them
And I glide into my own port,
Servile clot on their streets,
A boogeyman in servitude to their unsoiled world
An affront to their weltanschauung.
I sing their disdain
Scratching my oleaginous head in wonderment
At their spotlessness
Their scrubbed skin
Their sleek clothing
bearing their appurtenances like Russian generals
Over their shoulders and on their wrists and on their arms
Chests puffed out
While I judder at their belle view
And revel in their discomfort of me.
The metal grate behind me,
Sings its own song at my back
A tinny tintinnabulation
A fife’s greeting as my invisibility
Drags me further away from their humanity.
I warble my own humanity
To the dusky sidewalk
Scratch my underarm and the nitty being in its hollow
And I croak my baleful tune in stentorian tones
To their world–
Buddy can you spare a couple for one bucking the tide?
©2018 Sy Roth
Photograph by Robert Sundheimer
Sy Roth is a retired school administrator who has finally found the sounds of silence and the time to think whole thoughts. This has led him to find words and the ability to shape them. He has published in Visceral Uterus, Amulet, BlogNostics, Every Day Poets, Barefoot Review, Haggard and Halloo, Misfits Miscellany, Mad Swirl, Larks Fiction Magazine, Danse Macabre, Bitchin’ Kitch, Bong is Bard, Humber Pie, Poetry Super Highway, Penwood Review, Masque Publications, Foliate Oak, Miller’s Pond Poetry and The Eloquent Atheist.