The Gray Can

February 7, 2012 by Tim Ruane Leave a Comment

The Gray Can

It is 7:16 in a coward’s evening

On this yet another drooping Wednesday.

I would say that I am no longer bedraggled over you,

That I need you like Comet,

That I have 12 geisha now,

That they studied in Kyoto,

That they are not shy like you and me.

Yes, I would say,

But were I to conclude a truth like Socrates

I would state that I must ask you on a date

For a glass of cranberry juice.

You would affirm or condemn,

And if condemn I would flee to Hades or nirvana or Alcatraz

Or to a bottle of Smirnoff or some such, I suppose.

I must pray to the moon,

Illegitimate star, hanging like a banana,

And I must take Japanese tea.

I should consider, too, praying

To French gods of love,

(But then French gods of love make me puke).

Perhaps I should invoke Jesse James

Or Theodore Roosevelt.

The banana moon will tell me, I am sure,

That if we do not meet,

I shall have to consult three Catholic priests.

These men would anoint me

During grievous Extreme Unction

With gray and holy incense

Spooned into a gray and holy can.

About Tim Ruane

Tim Ruane is an artist and writer. He is a graduate of Georgetown University, where he studied English and art, and has worked as a chief copy editor in the editorial department of The Washington Post, where he has also worked as a freelance photographer. He has written hundreds of poems, two novels a number of short stories. His photographs have been published by The Washington Post, Simon & Schuster and The Good Men Project. He has shown his photographs at Potomac MD Public Library and is scheduled to be published in ShareArt LA, Circumfleks Magazine and Splinter Literary Journal. He will have an exhibition of his photographs in September at the offices of Prudential FedRealty in Washington D.C. Mr. Ruane lives and works in Garrett Park MD, just outside Washington D.C. USA.