White Trash Magic

White Trash Magic

They ought to know by now,

I only drink champagne 

in the morning;

be it rain

or shine.

No longer having the taste

without the fizz,

I could drink it all day,

be it white or rose.

In a bag

on a bus

driving my car;

the same blue

as the sky 

by mid afternoon.

Blasting white trash magic

out of  the two speakers

that still work.

Offering a toast,

too the dirty offspring

of some dangerous mother.

And yet the cork still pops

be it plastic

or not so plastic.

Making a tear fall 

in the bubbles

my life has become.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

~ the scenery is so well described not only does your poetic take me there but slips me deep inside the narrator's mind~ feeling champagne bubbles pop on the slide side of life~