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 Comment Add your own

  • 1. R.B. Morgan&hellip  | 

    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

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