Friday, April 20, 2018

10,752. BETWEEN THE MARGIN AND THE LIMIT

BETWEEN THE MARGIN 
AND THE LIMIT.
There's not anything really. In the sunlight, 
it's all bright yellow, everything seems washed
out. Some steamboater in a dulcimer vest walks
wide the wild thoroughfare. I've known his kind
for years, and each of them's the same. Guys who
couldn't hold a jacket to a winter-coat nor keep
a steady job. All show, no go. 
-
Some lame babe to my left is furious  -  or so it
seems  -  scratching off the four lottery things
she's just bought, inside the Quick-Chek, from
the vending machine. Where the heck did this
idea get started, that they're going to vend you
the millions you need? The sign says 'a thousand
dollars a day for life.' Huh? No wonder she's
pissed off, and I would be too.
-
I remember when those machine tried making 
coffee. That was a real blast as well. Here comes
waddle-butt, the 70-year old gas-station attendant.
Oh Jeez, I gotta' go.

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