In Tents
In Waltham, on a Soccer field
A city of pink tents was pitched.
A neighborhood with real thin walls
Some chat, some snore, some mainly itched.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Streaks of lightening split the sky
Soon, I knew, the rain would come here.
We must find shelter, you and I.
I am not the outdoors type-
Five star hotels are more my speed,
But out here on the soccer field
Tent building skills are what I need
I 'liberate' a sheet of tarp
To serve as floor for our domain
And with your help I pitched the tent
while laughing in the pouring rain.
Once inside the nylon bubble
(My shoes and clothes quite soaked with rain)
A tiny leak, a Chinese torture
Drop by dropp upon my brain..
Back out again into the Tempest
Back out across the sodden field
I’m seeking out a piece of plastic
to keep out the piss warm rain.
I return to our tent in triumph
A sheet of propylene I found
Is just the thing to keep the rain out
I plop down on the slick wet ground..
The woman in the tent beside us
Like a lusting Walrus snores,
But twenty miles this day behind us
I soon won’t care if Lions roar.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
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