Crazie

image borrowed from bing

Crazie

I find crazy

in the damnedest places,

in my yogurt,

in my jeans pocket

after it has gone through the wash,

in the middle of my quilt

while investigating an odd lump,

as a mystery ingredient

in my breakfast cereal,

borrowed from bing,

stumbling onto some perverse website,

behind my dusty hiking boots,

in the thumb of my gardening gloves,

in a mouse nest

within my old paint cabinet,

on the shelf right between

NIGHT AT THE OPERA

and

PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT, 

in my socks drawer,

while reading William Burroughs

or Hunter S. Thompson,

or Philip K. Dick,

in the medicine cabinet

at my best friend’s house,

in the cat box,

in my treasured Roy Rogers

lunch pail under the Buck Rogers

decoding ring, on the seventh page

of the first issue of Conan the Barbarian,

in Frank Frazetta’s biography,

in Woody Allen’s mind,

while listening to John Belushi,

reading a Jim Carrey tweet,

within the wound in my right leg

five inches into the hematoma

after crashing through my deck,

in Taffy’s dog house

four years after she left us weeping,

holding her while she reluctantly

received the prick of death,

in the desk drawer of a Motel Six,

under my spare tire,

in the backyard where we buried

the cat from ten years ago,

in every production shot

from every theatrical play

or film I ever appeared in,

in an old cigarette ad

John Wayne did for Chesterfield,

in the bottom of my golf bag,

wedged into the thumb webbing

on my high school mitt,

under the Hudson hub cap in my garage,

in the plain brown envelope holding

the last hand-written note

my mother left me before she made

her last trip to the hospital,

and the translucent mystery man

who held my hands tightly

just before the hour of the wolf. 

Glenn Buttkus

May 2012

posted over on DVerse Poets-Stream of Consciousness

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