Thursday, January 5, 2017


The magazine cover was blowing
around  -  some guy on a motorcycle
with his name in bold type.The
hippest of snorts now given
over to nothing at all. Just
wasn't right.
I'd been there before  -  knew one
of his girlfriends too. Like a
broken candleabra, missing
one candle for the Chanukah
charm, those lame worshippers
kept coming, nonetheless, coming
on. And keep coming still.
I wanted to take out a collection
basket, to gather the swill; seems
they pay for anything these days.

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