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Click hereI've seen too much
drank too much,
too many philosophical conversations,
too many quietly broken taboos
coffeehouses and decrepit alleys
are littered
with my open-mic ghosts,
motels with the one-night
perfumed phantoms of my loves...
rarely enough money,
never the right combination
these days I'm ill
but not terminal that
I know of...
hard to tell sometimes
and the mind isn't right
But I have fun sometimes:
free pinot noir at art shows
where the women wear Latin,
dark chocolates that smell like mansions,
reading Frost without scansion,
the occasional letter from an admirer
I talk with friends,
research historical figures,
and shop at the super-market
but there are too many choices
and too much pretentious packaging...
and I end up haggard again
caught between isles 4 and 5
wondering what I came for