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Dive Bar Digressions

Howdy Fellow Citizens.

Y’all done with all this jailin’? This, off then on, internment is a run on sentence rapidly going stale. Like this post.

Seems my desire to poem is, once again, in a lockup courtesy of this extended lockdown. In fact, I feel my muse must have been hoosegowed…like…you know… akin to being held incommunicado.

So I’m left to hold the fort of this post all by my lonesome. With a loathsome repost and/or the silly word slinging of an old man unable to visit his neighborhood bar for a pour or two while sharing some out loud poor mouth and pouty senior citizen reflections on his end times while all from ages 8 to 88 are wise to be practicing similar eschatological exercises.

May you live in interesting times…my ass.

That sums it…for the day…somewhat.

And all I got, cepting this young lady’s first reaction to Richard Thompson below.


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.

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