a graying-slate, western sky
stands as a prop for the etched
skyline;

seems drawn by a wunderkid
and pasted, wrinkle-free
and smoothed-out atop the slate-sky.

sharp lines imply order, strategy
of creation, as lives are lost
in offices and taverns.

each living a moment's lifetime
in every breathing choice
of a life lived.

the wino as dead as the ad-man,
at length they chase an illusion
of filth in lucre.

one in liquid ounces that imbibe
one in white powder that seizes,
both in ounces that slay.

they know dallas,
and they're dead.
i drive in dying.

09/30/2005