finally finishing my morning coffee some 11 hours after I fixed it
in a stained cup
stained by too many morning coffees
now morning coffee has morphed into irish coffee
O’ Hallaran it is
tired sun going down behind forlorn trees
legs like lead about to fall down
bad moon rising in the unsettled sky
the friday fish fry and the cold beer at the VFW lodge
veterans telling old war stories
wannabe bikers trying to ride away from their cubicles
baseball game on television at the bar
seems like a retro relic from some past time
speaking of the past
you may be done with the past, but the past may not be done with you
bad penny in your pocket that keeps turning up
I voted for love but it was crushed in a landslide
a grassroots campaign that went off in a ditch
deep mud in concrete culvert
the rubik's cube of life confounds my mind again
brain teaser, twister, rattler
making my last stand, then I give up
