Sunday, November 21, 2004

 

Towards The End Of Another Double Shift

The clock goes double slow.
Burger flip sweat tired, me, in skin greasy mind limbo,
double shift blisters on my feet.

I don’t want to be here
with these families feeding on sugar and fat
and peroxide perm blue mascara bimbos in leopard print pants
and this ex- con manager who yells at me.
Oh poor feet.

I want to be a cat
who's snoozing in front of a fireplace,
burning log snug.

Flippo burgeros ergo sum

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