sometime after
all the fun's gone away
and all the scavengers are getting over the day
the wreckage seen by the cleanup crew
worse than any penny
arcade and even when the
clowns of some reasonable trade
are home enjoying their beds or their freedom
the smaller harlequins are
replacements, entertaining the crowds of
thoughts they never even considered before now
and even as wonderous, there's nothing but
food and drink, standing or in puddles
that some cheap kid wasted his money for
even though he knew the
places to go on a friday night
are clearly forbidden on the rules outside
because everyone knows you must be this tall
and cannot be pregnant, or have spinal injury
and you can't live alone,
at the bottom of a bottle

05/01/2005

Author's Note: Not sure when I wrote this, but I found it and decided to post it.

Posted on 07/01/2005
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby