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Igorgoldkind Feb 2018
Today was every other day.

My boss says
"Hey Joe, where you going with that staple gun in your hand?"
I draw a blank on my face and turn to face his
.
"You don't really know, do you, Joe? 

You don't know where you're going.

You don't really know who you are.

You don't know much of anything anymore,

Do you now, Joe?"

Then he laughs at me 
In front of everybody
He laughs and points at

What everybody but me can see.

And everybody laughs and they laugh and they laugh

But nobody talks to me anymore.
My boss don’t talk to me anymore.
My neighbors don’t talk to me anymore.

My girlfriend don’t talk to me anymore.

My doctor don’t talk to me anymore.

My mother don’t talk to me anymore.
My father don’t talk to me because 

He's long since gone

Flown far away from the words to this song.

I call my girlfriend up on the telephone

She says,  "Joe, I'm not your girlfriend anymore"

And hangs up the phone.

Nobody talks to me anymore.

I call my doctor on the telephone

He says, "hello, is there anybody there"?
I say, "it's me, Joe, doctor help me, nobody talks to me anymore!"
My doctor coughs and hangs up the phone.

Nobody talks to me anymore.

I call on my priest in the church down the road

I say "Hello, Father? my Father, is that really you?"
"Please tell me, dear Father, what should I do?"

My priest says "Joe, God don't love you anymore"

And throws me out through God's front door.

Even God don't talk to me anymore.

So, I go down to a bar to have a little swim.

There's a bar stool there where the Cross should have been

The bartender looks at me,
But he doesn't say a word.

I hold up *******  pointing up at the sky
So he pours me a double, ten-year-old rye.
Which I toss down and motion for another
All the while calling him "my brother".
The bartender stares at my face
As silent as the stone sleeping inside of that wall.
Nobody talks to me anymore.



On the street, the headlights blind my blinking eyes.

Strangers push past me, some I know, most I despise.

A cop car pulls up and flashes his bright light on me

The cop points his flashlight in my eyes so that I can't see.
But we already know, there's nothing he or I need to say.

He won't arrest me.
It just ain't worth it to talk to me anymore.

A ghost walks up and stares into my face.
He doesn't say a word; 
just hangs there in space
And  spins ribbons of colored lights

Inside my head.

There's no knowing with ghosts no more
The dead don't talk to me anymore.

Suddenly I see an explosion of lights

There's trumpets and harps and angels in sight
A liquor store, neon vision of light
Promises me the spirits of salvation
 and delight,
If I just step inside.


While next door, a gun store slowly cracks open its door . . .

I am my father and my mother's son and

I’ve never before bought me a gun,
But nobody, nobody talks to me anymore.

Igor Goldkind © 2018
Written in January;  predictive enough but sadly not amazingly so.

— The End —