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what are we to do?
by Charlie Morgani should add one more friend, as some
of my friends are getting old, too old.
they can't jump out of my pick-up bed;
can't run fast, lift big boxes of toys.
they've become utilities that i don't use.
my curb is filled with old, worn carcasses;
they lie there and beg as drivers come by.
beg for life again, the life they bought;
yet no ownership papers exist to prove it;
lieing there with their broken dreams,
sack lunch and a family-tree of pain.
yet when drivers stop, they want the soft
center of a tootsie pop; eschew the hard. 08/28/2008 Posted on 08/28/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 08/28/08 at 02:14 PM Too funny. I can't help it - I still crack the hard candy shell to get to the center every time! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/28/08 at 03:51 PM Nice Charlie, nice! I think I've just been run over. |
| Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 08/28/08 at 04:04 PM ah, i'm one who likes to savor the candy around the tootsie center. i'll be your friend, Charlie. you sound more fun than most of the folks i know. |
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