Friday, December 2, 2016

Burned Out Firing Up

stunned sad
by my own reflection
caught among the commuter herd
going from bed to desk to death
mindspace cluttered 
with petty matters
paid to pretend to care

somewhere lost 
buried by the worry-lined face
is the slap-happy poet
who lived for twilight wine
and laughed 
under pink
sunset skies

rage in the transit cage
but vow
to find this person

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