Word Salad, Word Sauce Poem

Listened to DMX for hours, took a walk downtown, then this happened.

“Word sauce” tossed on the word salad* lost in the mix down town some found down brown^

Doesn’t sweeten it much or give them a crutch Said “hi” to one fellow tryna be mellow

But on did he rant Found I just can’t cure with a word To think so … absurd

They need stronger stuff Enough is e nuff Is my clanging*** banging?**** Or have I been hanging?

Outside a bar scene on a car “Word Sauce”** on the back Context I lack

There’s no meaning there For this wandering square Such an odd phrase My days in a daze

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Notes:

*Word salad = the seemingly confused speech often used by schizophrenics

^Found down brown = rude medical shorthand from my days as a trainee, referring to homeless people found passed out who’d defecated on themselves

**”Word Sauce” = words painted across the back of a car. Reason/meaning unknown.

***Clanging = rhyming gibberish speech pattern occasionally used by psychotics.

****Banging = loud, attractive, exciting

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Most days the homeless aren’t signal, they’re noise, blending into the background like the steady hum of traffic, ignore-able.

Today was not one of those days. Today I saw them, really saw them.

What was it?

So many of them? The “word sauce” — “word salad” my writer’s mind free associated as I walked? My “hi”? DMX’s “clanging”?… which really is banging!

Something else entirely?

With gratitude to Ann Marie Steele who lent her practiced poet’s eye and ear to this experiment, providing some much needed help and encouragement.