Things I Think at a Stop Sign
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