dreaming the same daydreams
the same not happening daydreams that he had
when he was 20 years old
when he was 30 years old
when he was 40 years old
when he was 50 years old
when he’s 60 years old and still rising
life an empty beer keg
a flattened can in the middle of an alley
next to broken shards of glass
passed him by like a taxi in a driving rain
on fifth avenue at a lonely no moon midnight
hanging onto a lifeline with fingers in a death grip
afraid of the future
pathetic creature, a transmission stuck in neutral
a lifetime of dreaming dreams that won’t ever come true
his ponytail now gray and ratted
the last vestige of his youth
until the day he dies
which should be along presently if he’s lucky
sometimes dreams don’t come true
