I pour myself
a big Think
–a double entendre
to compliment the
nuance
of complex
Mood
steaming before me…
After race,
Every bite
goes unwasted, and
I opt for funk
(instead)
an especially tall
order, and
one I thought
those that fate
forgot…
Weary-eyed, and floating,
welted ice against glass
—winks
a
visual?
that suits
to the
letter.
Comments are closed.