imprisoning the wee peace

[saw]

peace, transient hobo
stick over the shoulder
with a bag of dangling schemes
happiness..... lost
in faces of sad clowns,
can't be charged with plastic
can't be put on layaway,
blistered hands don't have
a smooth answer, scarred
flesh can't distinguish
acid from aloe....joy
is shapeless, won't hold
an ounce of water
a ghostly visitor with the road
in his eyes, that likes to drop in,
to an open invitation from a distant
relative.....contentment
a frivolous stranger, a hitchhiker
with a busy agenda
and a flashing red I-phone,
so grab that fucking leprechaun
lock him in a one star hotel
feed him Ho Ho's and Ring Dings
til he can no longer fit through the door,
it is then you will have peace