Tuesday, April 18, 2017

18 april

a blank is drawn and suddenly it is not
caught up in mirrors we forget to deliver the paper
or even the news and suddenly it's olds
too cold to care about and stale dry to boot
kick the can and not the bucket
to keep idioms and idiots in order
to sort or not to have as long as we all shall part
(a script that will break hearts and never fail to flag)
dragging our feet and meters out to greet
the new day's raises with crazes out to here
and courses that can't run clear through
without near truths to hit back with
to collapse tips into salary
when everyone's in line for the overtime hit parade
for that got-it-made shade we've been dreaming of
from the sun as space runs out of starts

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