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Butch Decatoria
Poems
Mar 2017
Spring @ Sin City
Sunday poolside
Prelude for tomorrow's Spring,
It's first day, midway in March,
Weeks away from the month of May.
And I decide to cool my inner heat
In the gurgling soup of the jacuzzi
Whiles the unaccompanied tweens scream
And play a made up game
A hybrid of polo basketball and puberty...
No clue how conversations start,
But a friendless me talks and talks
Unable to stop, even when they disperse...
I talked to myself mostly,
Or if they were listening, the ears that heard,
Advice on life, trying to wake up the herd
The void wears a teenager's face
And in the sounds of summer
This prelude day to Spring,
Splashing and laughter and a toddler's cooing
I observe my voice drifting
Up and through the fence of steel bars
Eroding, rust colored water
On grey cement and murky turquiose...
I talk and it feels like I'm under water
Their attention span as transient
As Vegas itself...
I talk about myself honestly,
I gave them real advice
From the mistakes of friendless me,
what it will take to succeed
For a future they could care less about
And Life!
Must of talked about nothing
Talked mostly to myself
The day before spring, all heat and not much else,
I felt something hollow then
Recognizing Hell
The void mimics reality well
when was it I fell?
*(Sensing greys in their shells... The rising heat...
Midnights distant tolling... Trumpets and bells)
Written by
Butch Decatoria
47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
(47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA)
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