Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard
Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades
We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull
Dimples; the marks of the fairies
Their love touched upon the very faces
Chosen to endure above the others
Dimmed, but remaining vague traces
Magic’s residue upon your life
Nature knowing what is true
Selected to be special
Out of all the woods, they settled upon you
I’m not good at keeping secrets
My face said all that needed to be said
I’m judging all the stupid people
I refuse to be soft & cuddly instead
We have too many selfish people
In a time of catastrophe worldwide
Worried about their own cabin fever
Not the repercussions of this time & tide
I called you a fucking moron
But you said I was a little vague
You’re commingling with society
In the midst this Nebonic Plague
I’m from the Fred Durst part of Florida
Not known by the likes of Joe Exotic
& the ignorant coeds on Spring break
Licking doorknobs or whatever they find erotic
I’m on lockdown, cautiously watching the news
Florida’s redneck population can be embarrassing
I’m peeking out from between my fingers
But you still won’t find me watching the Tiger King
Image by Pierre-Laurent Durantin from Pixabay
Captain Q 