just once.
horrible.
a dump. the ocean can't rise
fast enough
to erase it from the world.
no matter how much lipstick
you put
on betty davis at the end
of her career,
it didn't matter.
there were throngs
of bused in
old people with buckets of coins.
social security
money.
petty gangsters and whores,
who would
never drown on account of
their enormous surgical enhancements,
standing in line. blue haired
seniors, shaped like gum drops
melting in the sun,
grim in the noisy
chaos.
people in wheel chairs,
wheeled
in by nurses for one last
pull of the arm
to win
ten dollars.
it seemed to be a small taste
of what hell was going to be like
for some people.
some i was once related
to once, by the institution
of marriage.
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