el diario

el diario and the book man
walked hand in hand to the corner.
he spoke of his wife, the whale with lash tongues,
and his measly wage,
dried out by hard drinks and a soft son.
el diario and the show man
sat at a table in the back,
and clicked spoons over the morning's deal.
i'll admit this, he said,
i never shook hands with a man i liked.
i've never been right about the weather.
el diario and the god's man
met behind the gym on game day.
he answered every question with,
it's hard to say,
and left before finishing his cigarette.
then behind his back, to himself perhaps,
no matter that the lord can't fix,
he sighed. no matter that the lord can't fix.