We come on the ship they call The Mayflower
Paul simon
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hours
And sing an American tune
Something must be wrong with us, it seems.
Half of us appear to have lost our minds.
I attempt to write a poem that doesn’t try
to say anything, that just meanders its way
into an idea through a series of images,
William Carlos Williams-like, but I’ve set
myself up for failure by thinking first of this
Paul Simon song and second about how
messed up everything seems to be in
this “age’s most uncertain hours.” I’d never
want to go back to the Mayflower,
for Christ’s sake, nor to the moon landing.
Now is surely the best-worst time to be alive.
We need a new American tune to make it alright.
michael jarmer 