after a few days
of not shaving and wearing
the same work
clothes,
paint stained and torn,
the shoes
covered
in months of debris
and mud,
recovering from a cold,
coughing into your sleeve,
people will hand you
money,
trying to stick dollars
into your near
empty coffee cup.
you say God bless
to them,
and move on,
thinking about that
little Italian
convertible you might
buy in the spring,
white with a black top.
maybe
with an Italian girl
too, riding beside you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment