Thursday, November 15, 2012

stuck on Sackett

in the midst of it
he stands out like an empty wallet
in the middle of millionaires
his eyes mariners of misery
tinged with sea salt & glycerin
those Pall Malls only bought him
seconds of peace
stuck on Sackett
in a city where bread is scarce
if your past is long
and your pants aren't hip
this cat feels that the best way
to fight the gnaw of cold stares
is to keep moving
and let his cigarette light his way
into an unknown future

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