drugstore blues -
      diet coke, cigarettes, matches.
      the old pink-clad-hag in front
          buying rum at 1:00 pm.
          but how could one resist
          with the sun so bright and all.
      wrong cigarette brand,
            speculation of thievery,
            the fuckin' accusations fly
            like peasoup vomit and
            the sympathy I feel
               for the poor guy behind the counter
               who has to deal with other people's
               all day long.


poetry selections