SONGWRITER

Bob Dylan is, to the best of my knowledge,
the only songwriter to successfully rhyme
outrageous and contagious, which doesn’t
explain why I knew I could never be
a successful songwriter in this life.

The explanation is far simpler, it was when
Leonard Cohen served me tea and apricots,
said he hated the river even living in Montreal
and said I should pack off to Florida or
California if I wanted oranges, though he
said, if I ever visited China, if I’d see
where their oranges came from.

We’re all older now, Leonard is dead
and even Bob admits he’s not sure
he’s younger now, but he says, Bob that is,
that I need to get over keeping up
with the Joneses, because in the final
analysis, we are all Jones at the end.

ROBERT ALLEN ZIMMERMAN IN HELL

 

Baby Blue stormed
into the room.
Jones never saw 
her coming, was
totally confused.
Angry didn’t cover
even the half of it.
“I’ll tell your sorry ass
when it’s over Jones
and not the other
way around, got it!?
Oh, yeah, and by the way
you are really
packing on the pounds
of late, so pretty soon
you’ll just have
to change your weary tune
like it or not.”