The Living Graveyard

Here is where I exist

a dung heap of

wood panelling

Nick knacks

and

dead appliances

 

Watching my reflection

In a smoke grey table top

Gnashing into a cheesesteak

 

Out in the shed

A box filled with Dad’s hidden stash of ‘70’s Penthouse Magazines

and a half a case of ancient Schmidt’s

 

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Filed under Outlaw poetry, poetry

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