sunday afternoon

[fledgist]

i ought to work but my head hurts too much
i've got to call my son and hear his tale
i've this and that to do and so and such
enough to do that my mind seems to quail
i look at the map the names that speak of place
lines marking the bounds of country and of state
my mind cannot make the leap across the space
where image and reality come to mate
the numbers have a meaning but right now
i can't quite make the sense and image jell
i seem to see a goat tick birds and a thin cow
fires raising smoke large cars a stinking well
i've never been there never heard them cry
yet in my thoughts i know i do not lie