Things I Think at a Stop Sign

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Left again,
my weary friend,
on the side of lonesome road.
 
A pistol hand,
a horsefaced liar,
a liturgy too old,
 
a saw-toothed swan,
rattlesnake limp,
and a cup that o'erflowed
 
showed me to
a curbside preacher
who'd left for Abbey Road.
 
And I, a chump,
a sinner and a man
looked him square
and said a prayer
while my soul condemned
 
danced a while
to a child's school tune
all while the half-sun set.
I laid my bet
to the brilliant new moon;
 
Exeunt actori, stage right!
into the deadened night!
For this side of lonesome road
an echo is your friend, but
friends they lie and friends they fold.
Here, you're better off untold.
 
-JR Simmang, 07/22/14

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