DO WE NEED AGING
STARS AND STARLETS?
STARS AND STARLETS?
Six a.m. as the crow flies. Not enough
time to relish the thought. I'm walking
my way to oblivion, over or out from
something at all. King/Queen gets me
coffee from Small World by the time
I reach; they open the door a half-hour
more. I sit, and debate nothing with
nobody. Four and twenty blackbirds,
baked in a pie. I wonder if they have
that today? In comes C. K. Williams,
staring straight ahead. He's gone now;
hate to say he's dead. Not alone on that
count, Hell. What I can't imagine is how
to make my own self fit. Do we even
need me around, to just sit?
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