What Tomorrow Brings (Another Day in Paradise) - original poem
poetry·@sgtechservices·
0.000 HBDWhat Tomorrow Brings (Another Day in Paradise) - original poem
 I stick my head out of the door To grab my paper from the porch Just like I did yesterday Saw my neighbour washing his car He raised his hand and said Hey, how are you, buddy? I can’t complain It’s just another day in paradise Jimmy laughed and went back to work I wish it was the same for me, he said My wife left me yesterday. I resisted the urge to say it was no surprise Then he added, oh well, it was coming. The miracle is that she stayed this long I nodded and said, well what can you do? It’s what I say when I have nothing to say. Then he said Why don’t you come on over We’ll drink some whiskey and get fucked up We’ll talk about Why the world is against us Until the sun is coming up Then we’ll wait to see what tomorrow brings I’m sorry buddy, I can’t wait that long We’ll turn the radio on To hear what the country singer sings I’ll kill myself if I hear a Goddamn country music song Woke up the next morning After two or three solid hours of sleep Took my pounding brain outside The summer sun burned through my eyes Out to run errands, here we go again Post office, grocery shopping, and a couple more Can’t forget about the LCBO (Like I ever would) I need my tonic for the weekend This sounds disturbingly like a country song Maybe they are right, whoever they are Maybe you do make your own excitement Perhaps I’ll run into traffic blindfolded Wait for the sound of screeching tires and breaking bones Or I could just rock my rocking chair faster than normal Brace myself to tip backward off a cliff Or at least down onto the floor I’ll end up just doing what I always do Wait to see what tomorrow brings Sorry, I just can’t wait that long Turn the radio on To hear what the country singer sings Sorry, I hate that Goddamn song I want this merry-go-round to speed up Because I want to get off (but she’s not here) Throw me on to the pile of broken glass and rusty nails Or maybe onto the soft lush grass I’ll fiddle while Rome burns in the August sun It’s what I do and what I have always done It’s just another day in paradise If paradise turned into hell Pope Francis says that hell doesn’t exist He hasn’t hung out with me at all. We’ll wait together to see what tomorrow brings Probably some sin and absolution We’ll turn the radio on and hear what Bob Dylan sings That can be the only solution --- <center>https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://steemitimages.com/DQmWUvdbJXRfuidp27Yihzs6zLCFMixqfm4HDRpstT3V1M7/19059662_10158916011665201_5661364166682113388_n.jpg <center>I'm Scott. I have just released my second book of poetry titled Last Chance Town You can find it on [Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/Last-Chance-Town-Book-Poetry/dp/1984034502/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1522950976&sr=8-1&keywords=last+chance+town+scott+gardiner) or at [My Website](http://www.wscottgardiner.com)</center> <center>