Flunking Upper ClassA Poem by jacob erin-cilberto
musk,
in a silent corner of a busy gathering the only scent of
loneliness as the olives fly in a martini-ed room
maraschino cherry divers off cliffs of drunk
narratives fall to the bottom of
the glass lives through which we look at
them, social impulse, heart
beats quietly
someone doesn't fit in doesn't sit in, wallet's full, but the
soul is empty this life? this life
this idle life, on easy
street feels as awkward as his
mute retorts to sordid conversation
that finds him digging his keys from his irrelevant
pocket...
and soon, one less car
in a half-mile driveway disappears as the smoke and noise
behind him fades with a night he
would rather not face again
this life? this life
this idle life, not for
him his soul needs the
sustenance of real. and a Pepsi will do just
fine to quench his thirst as he loosens his tie just one last time.
erin-cilberto 4/17/16 © 2016 jacob erin-cilbertoReviews
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19 Reviews Added on April 17, 2016 Last Updated on April 17, 2016 Authorjacob erin-cilbertoCarbondale, ILAboutOriginally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..Writing
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