Thursday, March 11, 2010


There's one guy who was living in a shack
in Pennsylvania, somewhere. He drank
a case of beer a day and on his back
were faded blue tattoos. In dreams he sank
and woke up here with all the rest. He thought
himself a fellow charming, rich and bright
but he mis-reads the stuff his mind has wrought
and knows it, too, somehow. Another's plight
of memory reveals domestic strife
but all that she remembers feels like joy
and hatreds smell of happiness. Her life,
she knows, is full of stories ill-retrieved:
her trust is gone, and pleasures have deceived.

No comments:

Post a Comment