the 1950’s are dead

tick tock
the clock
that rocks
life in an absurd rhythm
old men and dangerous women
who take a drink
to think and ponder
unwritten books
and lost letters
beats and pieces
familiar and scary
with tattoos and scars
that stretch on for miles
like sun lit pot-holed
blacktop highways
working for ten dollars a day
with no love and no fear
of the future
the pirates rule the roads
there’s no romance anymore
there’s life in music
and death in tv
the bars are empty
the fast food joints are full
distraction is in the air
with thinking boxes,
cellphones, and technological glass
to help you escape but
i choose the frequency of
distant to most ears
but imperative to others




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