David Cross was born in Galt, Ontario, attended local schools, college
and university. Throughout the 1980s he traveled extensively in the
U.S. before moving to El Paso, Texas in 1993. He spent the next three
years working and traveling in Mexico, and the Southwest. He currently
lives in Cambridge and works in adult education and specialized training.
His poetry is a blend of everyday observations and
wild imaginings. Often
characters and events of his hometown are intertwined with those encountered
during his travels.
Link: Colour
of Days— Selected Words,
his most recent book.
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©
2008 Dave
Cross
Poultry Poem
Some days you get cocky
You think you don't need them
Think you can do it without them
Without the alarm buzzing
Without the cold floor on bare feet
Without the frantic coffee chase
Some days it's all you can do to stick with them
To keep pulling your weight
To keep pushing paper
To keep from finally cracking
Under the waste, the uselessness of it all
Some days between getting cocky
And believing you can do without them
You tiptoe over the threshold
And just before it's too late, you turn back
Back to the clocks, the cold, the coffee
Back to the weight, the paper, the uselessness
Cause you might get cocky
But you're a chicken shit
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