Watching The Show

Smoke and music wafts in cartoon waves

and color in slowly moving air it’s all made

up anyway even memories the same music

played again doesn’t sound the same none

of them are as I remember them when I see

their recent photo they used to be so crisp

clean and fresh now eroded landslides of

melting clay or is it the drugs one can always 

ask.

Never mind. I’ll just be over here in the chill

tent grooving along with the other heavy trippers

waiting for another rush to pass and then

who knows just another turn of the wheel spin

of the merry-go-round always back at square one.

The sun goes round and round that’s another clue…

some like that every day is the same predictable 

comfy no shocks or surprises oh yeah but then

it isn’t. Whaddya gonna do then, Mr. Jones?

I think I need more popcorn.

Good thing my mind isn’t what it used to be,

a run away freight train sound familiar?

No, not no more, not to brag or anything…

anyone can do it, why they don’t is beyond me.

“You could die walking you doggie.”

(Pacino in Heat)