The final curtain

I am dreadfully sorry for not writing in too long a time. This night however I felt like reading yet another upbeat poem by one of my most beloved poets. I am entering the end of a holiday crowded with meddelsome northerners and troublesome days with rain and endless complaints, though all this is nearing the end. It is soon time for the final curtain call and I will be back at my books and to my rather somber thirst for even more books.

Whilst sitting in my bedroom, listenting to Charlie Haden's Nocturne, which I find suitable at this time of night, can't help thinking, with a somewhat melancholy mind that yet another summer has passed and autumn will unavoidably be following soon behind. I do, though, look forward to a few weeks of renewed friendship and merry laughter, the odd klinking of glasses and the oh so familiar songs of youth and spirit, even i


the final curtain on one of the longest running
musicals ever, some people claim to have
seen it over one hundred times.
I saw it on the tv news, that final curtain:
flowers, cheers, tears, a thunderous
accolade.
I have not seen this particular musical
but I know if I had that I wouldn't have
been able to bear it, it would have
sickened me.
trust me on this, the world and its
peoples and its artful entertainment has
done very little for me, only to me.
still, let them enjoy one another, it will
keep them from my door
and for this, my own thunderous
accolade.

C. Bukowski