Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

time evaporated
like a merchant of love
ducking down a blind alley
with voided contracts
in her pocketbook, wrinkles
in rain puddles clear as
windexed mirrors, a face
with heavy baggage
staring like marble, hard
into space, expressionless
on the outside, a monument
to survival, a totem of will
and bogus luck carved
with a single blade, against
all the bookie's' best guesses,
No one, would have ever laid down
money, especially this ole' boy, and
I got nothing to show for it all
'cept I'm still here, a bad bet
that fooled the experts, so
now what ?

?'s of a thousand dreams

i can hear the sounds of people in the streets