Blister

I did it in the meeting for 4 hours.
Billy Joel sang in the corridor.
Fireman dpt. closed the way
on the way
in a way that was original
disguised
Language broke in the room.
Song turned into classic hip,
hum-hums whirled around like sumptoms
the maidman and the grant-taker shook heads
blistering rambler stopped to say:
What is there to love, if not ourselves
and the cardboard armchairs we sit on
watch the news and sip a throat?
Call it rock the boat or thrill
my name is not Attica.
Chiefs never amplify.

So he broke my blister,
so what?
If I was to argue
I'd be an idiot,
a happy idiot
a rounding well-woman and a jill jig dawn
and my hands would be filled with redpots and love tingles.
Open your mouth, open the pool
and say you want to do it for a goodwill chance to become a mountain crackle.