Straight Shooter

in Poetry

An old buddy died young yesterday

Left a wife, daughter, dog
Debt, doctor bills
And detractors

That old buddy phoned me midnight
Dialed with distress and disease
Calling with memories.
And markers

Old buddy to hell, I said callously
His finger on the trigger
Calibrate the guilt
He squeezed

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.

Latest from Poetry

Beguile

Another little black dress Xmas mixer but my intoxicant ,straight up a

WOW

harp or Hark!sums Holiday verse a past purse of orders shipped via
Go to Top
%d bloggers like this: