|Early Morning Shop Q
riddled with last night,
cider stale breath.
She’s a bed hopping
gob stopping mess.
No bag of acid drops
is sour as her.
She spins confections of lies.
Sighs, close to tears,
bitter as pear drops,
demonstrably half cut.
Gutter glued to a map of her ways,
while we creep into another crap day.
She pieces together the stormy weather
that blows hurricanes through
the tingling bliss of sherbet fizzes.
“You gotta wife?
A fag? Some change
I can rearrange?”
The orderly queue
disappears from view.
She looks me straight
In the eye.
She chews her thumb,
I’m struck dumb.
You old prick.”
while shifting foot to foot.
“I’m a bigger better scrubber
than you could ever fuckin' dream of.”
she screams, and in that moment
she is queen, as we survey the wreckage
of our torn and tawdry lives.
Striving to be what we'll never achieve,
some barely breathing
2 Dec 11
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Brilliant stuff Larry. You have painted a wonderful picture. I really must start getting to work earlier. cheers ;)
enjoyed reading. I especially like lines 1-41.
i am faskinated by the Dickensian area i live in full of those adrift and awash...it reminds me of me....and its great having all day to do it not needing to work no more
Larry Copperfield lark
I think you read this poem word by word JK...well dun
Larry one liner Lark
JK one word Web.
I never ever doubt your deeds JK
Larry Hi deedle ee Deed Lark
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