2176: This Town

  • by
  • 1 min read

Tell me – how many bodies
in this town lie [undressed]
in airless hotel rooms & fail

to maintain a distance? Our
clocks offer them deadlines –
as a grip slips [as masks fall

to strip at certitude’s gripes
on us all] – We drink lattes &
bitch ‘bout others’ lateness

to attend to all obligations –
In hotel rooms all divests’ll
pile up – burden – In a town

of less than twenty thou’ I’ll
guess that a few dozen have
left their dull lived ways – I

teach my kids to be honest –
it’s my response to a decade
[& more] of a mis-direction –

[by word-of-mouth] – I sit in
a bar as that auld sweetness
in being me ferments [again]

Leave a Reply Cancel reply