I was there last night!
A real weird night, when
sex prawled the Tavern and
words meant little towards any action.
It was the eyes that stalked
in vivid smoke.
A sudden number rings the air.
"614! for the Pit Ham!"
"Alright! I won!"
"Jesus, Gene won that fucker again!"
Mutterings of conspiracy moment
arise in the sound.
Then, slowly back into the night
the eyes go lurking.
They find an ass in tight jeans.
"God, I'd love to have watched
her get ready for tonight!"
laughs the 'corner dude'.
No chance, he. No chance.
I become high just breathing these lives.
These ordinaries who have no chance
to speak freely in this world.
They will die, sudden and soon,
to be a face on the obituary page.
A small stack of mundane accomplishments.
"he liked fishing, and Nascar."
The epitaph of ordinary.
He liked Pizza, Fords, Marlboros, Bud Light,
girls legs. Yeah, he was a "leg man",
someone will say at the visitation.
As if his praise for a part of
the female body actually counted
in the grand posture of our Unmiverse.
His brand preference was subject to change.
But, for now, it was war to talk against
I went into this weird thing last night. I
was examining one individual. I am
positive this guy was high because,
I went right into his brainn and knew
just exactly who he was. It was pretty
I have no idea who he is;
but, I know him well.