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In Memory of a Funeral
by Amy ManningHe sputtered off into a dribbly silence. His saliva was pooled on the shiny wooden table.
That’s the kind of waitress that works on money drive.
Man’s got money, man’s got booze.
“And when he got to the end,”
A tear shaped drop somersaulted to its southern oasis.
“He realizes that he’ done nothing in the time another man could have done everything.”
Take another sip, Pops.
“Gnnuh, Awful shit. I’m such an awful shit.”
05/30/2011 Posted on 05/30/2011
Copyright © 2024 Amy Manning
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