Four Poems by David Francis

PLEASANT NOSTALGIA 

Pleasant nostalgia comes around
until I am by its threads bound;
the only problem:  I do not choose;
it calls when it wants, like the Muse.


AFTER HER VOICE

“I’m too excited to write”
(Write whatever you want)
“But I’m too excited tonight”
(Don’t think…write anyway)

“And I will put it down in my book”
(Yes, put it in your diary)
“Someday I’ll have a look”
(Keep it for posterity)

“My heart is beating fast”
(Big deal…still alive…so?)
“I’ve just got off the line”
(She said no, she says yes…she’ll say no)

“I feel like Christmas Eve”
(Well, that’s a year away)
“I feel like a million bucks”
(Every dog has his day)


LETTER TO A FRIEND 

Dear ______,
   What you need is a pet—to brighten this (your) apartment up—
say a parrot or a myna—or a cat—preferably an alley cat—to slink
across this (your) immaculate dun carpet, to hop—no, to leap up
onto the sill you don’t have—no, to give your curtains that lived-in
look—the people across that morgue of a courtyard (glorified alleyway)
have a cat that parts their transparent curtains with its ears—if I
am not mistaken—I would not advise a gerbil unless you want that
ambiance of feed store—I would not advise a turtle, especially if you
are depressed—


FOOLISH AMBITION 

Those glittering jewels
that last for centuries
are not our deeds—
but the stars