worn in cigarette ashes

five minute poems making a comeback

hey you, yeah you,

come over here

and just sit still for a few

while i tell you everything.

there's a poem written

on a folded up piece of paper

laying on my floor

just out of arms reach.

i guess i'll go get it after this.

years from now

when chipmunks and vampires

tell of the legend of man

i pray one will stand up

and yell, "bullshit!"

just to make this all

a little less real.

there's no magic bus

to take me away this time.

the fact that i can still vote

is proof enough

of the failure

of that generation.

i guess the only thing left to do

is grow fat and white,

and spend the last few moments

marvelling

over the craftmanship

of one another's canes.