In a quaint dive, clammy with years
of cooking oil coagulated
under squeaky barstools,
I clawed at
dozens of ethereal thoughts
Much in the same way that I scrapped
linty change from my pockets
to pay for this stiff cup of coffee.
“Is this exact?”
I sure hope so.
-http://lookoutmountaineer.tumbrl.com
Poetry 365
Inspired by Billy Collins' Poetry 180 project, I post one poem per day here, for at least a year. | tags by author or subject | contact me here
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