9 5 25 under a toxic orange sun
Slurping
a frothy
coffee
under a
toxic orange
sun
observing
they have
diligently
squeezed us
as tight as
they possibly
can on the
cable ferry
I look
around and
see mostly men
who look like
draft dodgers
or Rambo-like
figures who
have become
disanchanted and
have been
hiding for a
long while in an
eternal existential
limbo
and I too sport
this look of
beleaguered
disenfranchisement
although far too
young for Nam
I still had my wars
to conquer and
be defeated by
and before I
can add anything
else we have been
pulled to the other
side and the ride
is over for
now.
