Classic Muddle
Ian Ganassi

Big tears idling down the boulevards with a roar,
I can see your penis, I mean your Harley.

The summers were noisy, hot and expensive,
The winters cold, overheated and expensive.

And if the rest of the neighborhood puts five sugars
In its coffee, go with the flow, light and sweet.

A rough state, not that there aren’t others,
Too many for my taste.
And too much money in the suburbs.

But there’s little time for speculation
About the inner lives of the professional class;
The point is to be able to afford a suit and tie.

How much do you pay for one? I don’t.

I bet she works in a lawyer’s office.

It was time to watch out for the hurricane watch,
Keep an eye on the tornadoes, the roads

That lead to Rome, where the angel ambushed us.
Where would Jesus be without Paul and the Miracles,
A Christian rock band. Is there such a thing?
Or Jove without his thunderbolt?

“It’s not easy.”
“Nobody told me it would be.”

There’s no opportunity that can’t be squandered,
No bridge that can’t be burnt or jumped from,
No watch that can’t be made to lie about the time.

Ian Ganassi’s poetry, prose and translations have appeared in numerous literary magazines, including New England Review, Ploughshares, Octopus, Trickhouse, Sawbuck, Denver Quarterly, and American Letters & Commentary. This spring, selections from a collage project with painter Laura Bell were included in a group show at Zone Contemporary Art in Manhattan.

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