dry land sailor
write me a little
poem
a day or two after I die
that’s all I ask,
just type it up
on some borrowed
copy paper from
the back room at
Ryan’s Irish Pub.
Type it on that
Olivetti typewriter
that I keep
oiled and ready
on the back porch.
…
no need for
something flowery
make it a little
gritty,
think:
the Missouri River
at flood stage
and
Just
think:
Rock Island, Illinois
think:
Brockway trucks
think:
St. Paul, Minnesota and Kansas City
…
Or don’t make anything
of it,
just keep it inside of you
and call
the El Cortez Casino
where you know I would go
when the chips are down
when the spirit is free
and
say to them…
be on the lookout for a
roulette hound
a dry land sailor
a hundred dollar millionaire
…
the dogs are all you can bet
with any success
“you damned dry land gambler”
…
you told me that lots of times
so why not
bet heavy on the long-shot dog
I’ll look for you at
the Palm Beach Kennel Club
Ed's end of the planet books 
Hello? Is this El Cortez Casino? Just tell dry-land gambler, when he arrives, I’ll be along directly and not to break the house before I get there for the fun….” – – 🙂
You’d better hurry. He’s often won big in that joint…