O Lord, won’t ya buy me
A Mercedes Benz
Janis Joplin
It’s 6 A.M. Hawaii time. Far out
on the emerald-faceted waves
I see a gleam of white,
a plume of smoke above it.
Now it nears, sharp-prowed.
It’s the morning mail ship,
but I lose myself in fantasy,
imagine it’s the ship of hope
come round to pick up
its cargo in Hilo.
I see people carrying
parcels and suitcases,
eager to board first.
With a parting horn blast
it will bear the lucky ones
over the horizon,
leave others staring
disappointed on the docks.
I could be on it too,
but the hopes I cultivate
won’t fit in suitcases or parcels.
I wish for a world where
we all get what we need
despite those sad occasions
hate and greed conspire
to change hope’s sweet ship’s
useful rounds to dead-end trips,
bring billionaires more riches,
trade peace for endless wars.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Laue has edited Transfer, San Francisco Review and Monterey Poetry Review, and won awards for his writing beginning with the Ina Coolbrith Poetry Prize at The University of California, Berkeley. With five published poetry books, the last out last year (A Confluence of Voices Revisited, ((Futurecycle Press)), and a book of prose advice for people psychiatrically diagnosed, he presently coordinates the reading series of The Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium. Also a photographer, Laue had two shows of his photos last year and has work featured in local and international galleries and magazines.