A man was walking past in an overcoat.
The dog was on wheels.
The man was wearing a threadbare
coat that didn't keep the rain
off his theater.
He was playing the good Samaritan,
walking the crippled terrier.
But I could tell from his bloodshot eye
and Coke bottle glasses
that he was a meat beater
and confused his Scottie with his sausage.

David Lawrence


Lend what is disgraced and you will find butter
returns to toast for its first
This is not paradise.
Do they think their ugly nakedness will stop
Pigs disrobe.
Angels dress in wings.
I am not as sunny as your up side
but eggs are OK at dawn
if they stay down.
The world turns weary with war before
it embarks.
The footsteps of the nude pacifists
in Central Park make me sick.
They catch colds too.
What has this all come to?
An afternoon in the park
among would-be store dummies with messages.

David Lawrence
DAVID LAWRENCE has published more than a hundred poems in such journals as Minnesota Review, North American Review, Shenandoah, California Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, and many others. His chapbooks include Blame It On the Scientists, Dementia Pugilistica, Steel Toe Boots, and Boxer Rebellion, which was turned into a movie and played at the Sundance Film Festival, starring him. David Lawrence lives in New York City.
The Adirondack Review