My derelict soul
rolls west, to under
the Benton Street Bridge.
The bridge is strange and
lonely and changed, with
Steve and Scott dead.
Both of them died on
the railroad tracks.
The ducks are still there,
under the Benton Street Bridge.
A feral calico cat stalks
them with death and
hunger in her eyes.
The river's up.
Fish jump where me
and Carl used to sit and
sing old Motown songs.
I'm in the nut ward for
the umpteenth time.
***** induced madness.
Pensive about life;
bereft of hope,
I wonder:
Am I just a lost duck?
Maybe I'll ask that
slender cat.
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 4:08 PM UTC
My derelict soul
rolls west, to under
the Benton Street Bridge.
The bridge is strange and
lonely and changed, with
Steve and Scott dead.
Both of them died on
the railroad tracks.
The ducks are still there,
under the Benton Street Bridge.
A feral calico cat stalks
them with death and
hunger in her eyes.
The river's up.
Fish jump where me
and Carl used to sit and
sing old Motown songs.
I'm in the nut ward for
the umpteenth time.
***** induced madness.
Pensive about life;
bereft of hope,
I wonder:
Am I just a lost duck?
Maybe I'll ask that
slender cat.
Depression and ***** don't mix.
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