(20 minute poetry)


Them can scoot fast when the last seat's available,
don't worry about this old rhymer
he can spend some time a
standing
he's had plenty of practice

but in waiting for the opportunity that  I'm sure as **** is due to me
I keep my weather eye open.

Them's still young,
got years left to sit
years for their dreams
to come untrue.

And it's nothing to do
with it being Friday
this is everyday

sometimes I think
if only the wheels of
industry moved as quickly,
but that thought fades away
as this day will
and
them's still young

It's no fun but it's bearable.