Death winks at the
lilies that smile in
the rain.
He takes her.
The last dirty trick.
Watered drinks and
syphilis doesn’t do the
patrons any good.
Too much grief for
placebos and madness.
Relief must come.
Booze and fantasy just
bring sickness, and
licking frogs is
out of the question.
Pipe dreams ease the pain
if you smoke them slowly.
Watch the blue ghost curl
into the feeling fan.
This saloon is home for the
iceman.
So, buy me another drink,
and we can think about
doing it all
tomorrow.
Isn’t that right, Mr. O’Neil?
Awesome. Love this piece. The atmosphere of the poem & photo work perfectly together.
Thank you.
Holy darkness…
Waters drinks and syphilis. Wow.
Damnit. Typos. I need to get my butt to sleep. And it’s only 8:30.