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Temporal Fugue Dec 2018
The old man at the bar
firmly attached to his seat
he'll not be wandering far
nobody to see or too meet

Day comes in, night goes out
just a fixture, part of decor
weathering a never ending drought
needing less, yet still, wanting more

He looks to the bottom of his glass
and thinks he sees her again
hoping the despite comes to pass
but who is he, too complain

Memories good or bad
a stroll down a well known lane
many more drinks to be had
dulling the thoughts
in his brain
You've seen him before
you'll see him yet again
like a ghost material made
wandering his skull
wondering if his bill
has been comped
or actually

— The End —