pocket books deep in the middle
of a crap game shoot of
texas poker.
where are the children
on the street,
selling knives
being discreet singing national anthems
for the lamp in the sky
the moon, oh the moon.


sinking like a raptor
behind a blue chip
as thick
as beer bottle tops.
fly across the room,
roll across the table
i hunger for food
that gives me tummy aches
in the backroom of a hostile
cigarette smoke on the canvas
and we are the pictures of
everyone else.

the moon, oh the moon.

one contact
dried like cement to the upper eye lid
of one angry mob.
it tells him
to sleep like the angels
underneath the water
do you see the dead in the river
when you cross the state line at night?

the moon, oh the moon.

dream tonight children.
daddy earned a breakfast meal for two tomorrow,
and we're going to celebrate
with gasoline, matches,
and a field of empty promises.

11/23/2008

Author's Note: hmmm. ho hum. singing a diddy.

Posted on 11/23/2008
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