peering at the screen who knows

where these old eyes have been
the new one double spaces
no mater which way the screen faces

the ambient sound is deafening
and the customers are shouting at each other
my sunglasses too dim for the screen
and too bright for the glare

the sound track DJ crap
how did I fall into this trap
but the soothing reggea
will make the blues go away

the ruckus continues a pace
and no one know who has won the race
show us a medal or the winning face
so we can go home and leave this place

requiem for a poem
that shouldn’t have been tried
but then the muse lied
and left me squinty eyed


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