A veritable caricature of Jeremiah Johnson, I strung out on "truth"
years ago.
Sitting amongst August sidewalks which sweat like a ***** in heat,
I verbally assault passersby.
With a slurred battle cry of, "I can out merlot you any day!" I fall to
my knees, unsure of which direction is up.
I try not to think of words like vertigo, or.....vertigo.
A honking car sounds life back into me, but the windows are tinted so
I can't tell if I have it coming or not.
I flip em' the bird, just to be sure.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 2:08 AM UTC
A veritable caricature of Jeremiah Johnson, I strung out on "truth"
years ago.
Sitting amongst August sidewalks which sweat like a ***** in heat,
I verbally assault passersby.
With a slurred battle cry of, "I can out merlot you any day!" I fall to
my knees, unsure of which direction is up.
I try not to think of words like vertigo, or.....vertigo.
A honking car sounds life back into me, but the windows are tinted so
I can't tell if I have it coming or not.
I flip em' the bird, just to be sure.
Request permission to use this poem