Premature Response to a Poetry Assignment (it happens to men as they age)

1.

Christ! It’s been over an hour and still
no poem. Sometimes I just want someone
to know and I want them to tell me and
then I remember they can’t -- and then
sometimes I just want money and a
cellular phone so I can be safe, then
I remember I’m not. My dog, Alfie, is
twenty years old. He is going to die soon.
Then what will I do. I don’t know the
difference between a starling and a sparrow.

2.

Christ! Three days and still no poem.
I try to hitchhike one, but they just pass
me doing sixty in their stingy safe seat
belts and perfect teeth smiles.
But I do not care,
I have my rye crisp and ale.
Then there are dark days in
the bowl when the black shark
eats all the gold fish and I remember
that God favors the saved,
is not good all the way through,
notes each sparrow’s fall,
but lets it fall
without a trace.