The Singer

by Dr. David Mandler

The Singer

If you have nothing wise to say,
Sing! Nobody cares about the lyrics.
With that, she turned around in bed
And slept away the rest of the day.

So he sang and sang and sang until
A horse came trotting up to his window.
A contrarian by nature, the brute neighed
Wordless tunes that could all but kill.

He smiled, and vowed to sing some more
About alien love, laughter in losing battles,
Frustrated frosty young men, and nothingness
Until his hoarse notes refused to soar.

When they took off his silver hat, bozo nose,
Flushed away the thickened white face paint,
Shaved his bowie hair, and removed the pants,
His skeletal nakedness spoke in silent wisdom.

© David Mandler