David Fekete

Too much art can ruin a guy
Make a guy think that scales and well-crafted phrases matter
More than the well-being of people, more than wishing well
For those whose lives we touch, for yourself
Then, when someone’s father needs to be put in extended-care,
Or your car breaks, your world collapses
You won’t know how to deal
How to care
Religion puts it all in perspective
Gives your soul strength of life you need to get by
I preached today; I’m alright with the world
The rear axel on my car sounds like it will probably break soon
It could be the differential; maybe only shocks—I’m not a mechanic
Either way I won’t be able to fix it
I emerge out from my protected home life
I’m listening to club music I don’t particularly like
Because it’s the young barkeep’s style and it makes her happy
The whole idea of it all is cute, and
I’ve heard enough Jethro Tull in my day,
Sympathy for the Devil over 50 years
The music morphs
It’s anemic, vapid pop and
I sadly reflect that it may reflect her generation
You hope not, wish that you had Whitman’s gift of optimism
Too much art can ruin a guy
I was in church, today, and I’m alright with the world