Monday, February 15, 2016

7812. BUTTERFLIES AND AMBULETTES

BUTTERFLIES 
AND AMBULETTES
No, no, it isn't like it's Summer, but these
words make it seem so. Light, fluffy stuff.
Butterflies and Ambiguities, that would
give it a whole different tug. It was
only yesterday, I was at the train depot
in South Amboy, just standing. The 
Landmark, a local tavern I once knew,
was closed up and for sale. Pity. So much
the memory there. Hurts and remembers.
Butterflies and ambulettes. Getting trounced
by Bikers in the bar-side parking lot, having 
to look for glasses and teeth (not mine, no) 
worrying about them coming back with a 
gun. 'Glove-box serenade' it used to be 
called. Oh the shits I once lived through. 
Some are dead and some are still living.
Batter-fries and no regrets.

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