I'm just a raving madman,
Though my diatribe is
Silent, internal.
Sometimes vocalized
On the lips,
To confuse the passersby,
Who think the words are for them
To trip over,
Staring back,
(As though I am in need of
Consultation!)
As I rail against the world eternal.
My briefness here is
Measured in cigarette butts
And coffee cups.
My flirtations with sense
Scuffed along the edges,
Like burnt puff pastry are
The lukewarm insolence,
I display to the norm,
As I meander the glooming,
In the twilight of my evening.
My briefness here is
Measured in cigarette butts
And coffee cups.
I swagger the streets,
Looking outside boxes
Of the pavement beneath,
I can swagger unafraid
Of the cracks in the street.
Trying to contemplate
Life's directions,
With no less than a stick,
A blindfold and a
Far distant Piñata.
My briefness here is
Measured in cigarette butts
And coffee cups.
YOU ARE READING
My Papi's Mid-life Crisis
RandomI'm forty two and in danger of falling through the cracks of mediocrity; also known as a midlife crisis. I don't drive, so I can't buy a fancy car to fix it. I love my wife, so I can't have an affair with another woman. This book is part of my attem...
