Friday, July 21, 2006
Chatahoochee River © 2006 Rick Lee
It seems me and Mojo have parted our ways;
He vanished last Wednesday–no sightings for days.
I've checked all the hospitals, bars, and the zoo;
By all indications the partnership's through.
It's not unexpected; you work like a dog
'Til joy disappears, and the dance is a slog.
I hardly can blame him for taking a hike
These days when so many are going on strike,
Away on vacation from keys or from pen,
Not knowing for sure if they'll ever again
Have just enough spunk and the requisite spark
To hit literarily out of the park.
For words in a string are an intricate thing:
It's devilishly dicey to get the right swing.
Without Mr. Mojo there's not much to do–
Play pool, or give up on a crossword or two,
Or hang down at Tony's and have a few tears,
Remembering the day, blubbering into my beers.
So here's to my Mojo, wherever he's gone
I wish him the best for the road he is on;
When that which he's seeking to find has been found
Someday Mr. Mojo might drop back around.
© 2006 Jeffrey Hull