that first beer at six in the morning on a workday
November 21, 2008 rosspoetvassilev
subdues the fangs
of a mortgage
you never wanted,
clucking of the wife
you can’t stand,
job you can’t afford to quit.
tip the last drops
across your tongue
toss it into the back seat
gun the red
at fluer and mlk.
second and third
go down quick
breath mints
in the parking lot
thinking how
your father lived like this.
it cost him plenty
but you don’t give a shit.
can’t remember
the last time
you did.
by Justin Hyde
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Entry Filed under: Uncategorized
1. R.B. Morgan&hellip | November 28, 2008 at 8:30 pm
Mr. Hyde: Thank-you for the poem.
I have lived that. It is a sentence,
one of many, I continue to serve.
I read the poem drunk and sober.
It makes sense and has balls both ways.
Sincerely,
R.B. Morgan