Like a fountain
carved from stone
spewing putrid black
death in a decayed
polluted square
long dead
leaving little clue
to the magnificence
it once had.
Now
nobody gives a shit
as though nobody
ever did.
So it is
and so it goes
thus the beer
and queer company
I keep.
Quite often the
dream filled
burnout
that soon will be
in place
of this nearly dead soul
serving me a beer
or shooting pool
or avoiding
eye contact
in the diner booth.
No one has the time
let alone the ability
to figure out
a real thing
when it comes along.
How do you recognize
such a thing
for we all desire
exactly what
we fear.
Yes please,
I would like another beer.
- Tobey A. Anderson
Submitted: 4/8/2008
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