Such a polished act,“who you mean”,your obscenityand crawling nails,they scratch the sidewalk,we lost all hope for Youand walk with dark eyes;thrown from Your arms.You held the tickets,of children whose dreamsand whose tune…feet with pepsi caps,the smiles of night.“really?”Willingly plunderedin dark brown or kool-aid lime,holding the smokesand shivering puffs,that pass from lipto mouth.We look 6:30 in the morning;we are your Lounge.“yeah I know, it’s voodoo”Our paper dryness andshaking palms,we high and low,ritual blows,who work the Lounge,who adore your obscenity,the comedy, the pages of scribble;our perspectives of absurd value.We adore you andthat sketch, stubbled erasingsin the Lounge.“you mean the voodoo lounge?”“yeah!”2010 Barry Comer

other company's coffee beans
painfully purchasing

i already have:
opposable thumbs
attached to hands
and
legs,
arms,
eyes,
and land

grow it yourself

but what about:
time for travel
with scenic hikes
and
runs,
art,
love,
and psychs

no

put those thoughts up on the shelf
*******, and do it yourself

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