Funny Business
A Special Edition of The East Village

Tom Clark

The Suspect

The light that lights me is not steady
And polar, but shifty, like the flickering
Beams of the police flashers brightly hitting
My mutilated wax bust of John Wayne.

The germs of my best thoughts hatch ab ovo.
Under questioning, I'll throw out a word or two
Merely to be suggesting something,
Just don't ask me to say anything under oath.

Tom Clark Index