From Newsgroup: rec.arts.poems
Sunglass
This battered old shell looks like a death mask.
Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway.
And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.
One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned.
I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
saved, and I turn.
I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in
sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.
-Will Dockery (1997)
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