I love my own straying
how I'll miss drugs and strippers
and plain old nose-thumbing
the unmerciful earthly powers-that-be
when the crack of some kind of doom
sounds through a dark empty sky
you'll find me with the beggars and the whores
holding a broken bowl
with an insane grin watching the pompous power-mad
bug-eyed and slack-jawed in their limos
while we dance outside their rolled-up windows
tempting them to join us in the gutter
joy unconfined at the cracking peal of thunder
that swallows the whole world in what we once called ecstasy....
Content (c) 2008-2013 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
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