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On comfort and solace
Jeffrey Calhoun
It is wrong to be comfortable
One should always be
at least somewhat uncomfortable
Finally, some Truth
but it’s hard to swallow
like those pills he
takes every morning and night
many and multicolored
like those rainbows on TV
some as large as his
fingers so his
kidneys don’t stop
while all the other kids
grow tall and laugh
And it is the Truth
comfort and solace
breeders of forgetfulness
forgetting the woman
who’s never been the
same since she
took the shortcut
through that blasted
alley last year
And comfort is nice
It helps us overlook
that man with
a Santa Claus beard
full of crumbs that
spills over his
tattered coat and
sweat-stained shirt
covered in newspapers
he shivers ‘cuz it’s cold out
And that’s the one
problem with my faith
When I am singing at
Mass and I’m praying
I am full of solace
And I forget that
just outside the
stain glass windows
there’s a kid
laid out on the sidewalk
’cuz the gangsters don’t
like it when you run
What does it all mean?
That’s a good question
since we’re all too
lazy to find a better way
we’ll just go watch the
5 o’clock news
and listen mindlessly as
they tally today’s deaths
and then the weatherman
he comes on and
tells us the sun is coming out
from behind the clouds
but only after winter ends
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