We used to meet at this
enclosed bus stop.
Glassed in, like a
blurry-eyed goldfish.
Diesel morning sadness.
We were drunks, dead, and
still dreaming.
There was Chuck, Dog,
Lefty
Lucky
and Beth.
We shared our minuscule
amounts of liquor, and sang
old Motown favorites.
"Mama said there'd be days
like this."
These were the days of the
drunk and debauched.
Liars and lovers, partakers
in this waddling life.
Shattered days and fractured
nights.
We shadowboxed with the
sun, and pretended tomorrow
was a century away.
Here is a link to a blog about my recently published book, Sleep Always Calls. It's available on Amazon.com
https://www.thomaswcase.com/post/unveiling-the-poetic-rawness-of-life-a-deep-dive-into-sleep-always-calls?fbclid=IwY2xjawKKJlNleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBicmlkETFqMGR2WHB2TVFTa3NIWGZuAR4zpSjb4uBfbRXRxB6EIzKKFJiVH-j2W3UwhDUXghsruem93MHEIqYaXevsNQ_aem_UJMFy3xBxVz_bBewDlYdeQ
I read my poetry on my you tube channel, link below.