Mar 8, 2024
Moonbeams;
tequila dreams.
Forgotten scenes,
suicide machines
with exhaust screams.
Torn denim; frayed leather.
Outside, the impending desert.
Bar stool experts; hell-bent and westward.
It’s a place between night and day.
Word to the wise, stay away.
Someday, I’ll get outta here
but first, I need another beer -
Or someway to get clear,
how did I end up here?
I’ve forgotten life before being so callous.
Maybe that’s what brought me to the neon cactus.
Pissing away life’s sorrow,
drinking below a saguaro.
October 25, 2022
