dry ice

1 min read

I feel centered
sitting at the corner
of this hotel bar

Sharing scotch
with melting ice,
attitude thawing to amber

That’s not to say
all’s golden
or going mellow

More like local stains
evaporate slightly
and allow

soaking up
the news
of the global village,
in the company of strangers

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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