1 min read

If 1 Is True, 2 Never Happens

Help For The Holidays

If we elude
this Top Shelve Flu
we’ll open a bottle of Johnnie
Walker Blue, and you’ll toast me
And I’ll salute you,
if we both slip through
this Top Shelve Flu,
and do so together

Whim

Grace
Has send me packing
To an old man’s SRO
To pound and ponder
A pillow
With no palpable case
to make

An embedded correspondent,
make it.. penpal hack, to gussy
up that last stream of glutinous
phlegm
that- on a whim,
after whim, after whim of
living..
produces


r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

Previous Story

Until They Don’t.

Next Story

WALKING THE PLANK

%d bloggers like this: