Monday, July 21, 2008


Coarse winds on the bridge and the Charger still hasn’t sold.  You smoke that last cigarette down to its very core.  Toss out the lines and they’re spent just like change.  And the girl that you love gets much wiser than you, like a kite that’s been trapped in a cage.  Books on sports and barbells and differing points of view.  The street out your window might as well be a dragstrip.  Run-ins with lawmen, you punch the clock hard.  Happiest you’ve ever been, but it’s so Goddamned hard.  So, the cherry pops off and it’s time to go in.  Is this really the life?  Drunken college girls stagger from the door that you enter.  And the steps seem one story more each time that you climb them.  Now the smokes are all gone, but tomorrow’s another.  When the ball rolls, it starts all over again.



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