Thursday, December 09, 2010

butter chicken

false teeth,
greasy comb,
leather pants,
dollar store cologne,
cheap motel,
cheaper bed,
bad whiskey leads to,
bad dreams,
about a bullet to the head,
cold days,
colder nights,
ever walk the streets alone?


ever check the coin slot on a parking lot pay phone?


pick up the flu,
from dirty dishes,
dirty hands,
ever feel like no one understands?

feeling sick,
but the clock keeps tickin'
stuck somewhere between,
a bleeding tattoo,
and a plate of butter chicken.

2 comments:

Fisheye Lens said...

Vindalooney versification!

Old Ollie said...

Your poetry benefits from the sweet flow of big ol'chunky barre chord blues.