Robson Reads

"A Day Late and A Dollar Short" by David Hart

It was a cold dreamsicle night
A blackbird colored sky dripped
Rice Krispie snow bits down
On a cracked dirt ridden street

An egg yoke colored taxi shuffleslides
by, blowing smoke rings from its rattling
rear pipe.

I was worn out like an overused dish rag.
I sat spinning semi-circles on a
swivel stool at Joe's Open All Night
greasy diner.

An angry cup of coffee winked at me with
Mud puddled eyes and dared me to drink it.

A rag doll woman with shredded wheat hair
Sat sucking on a bent cigarette
Her smeared lipstick put on like a bad
coloring book.

Two yellow bug eyed eggs squinted at me
and said they'd
like to get to know my aching heart.

I gave a slight half smile to my
smeared redded up mouthed fellow epicurean.
Her nostrils flaired as cigarette smoke and makeup powered
fell from her boozer nose.

This could be my 208th love affair --
This one will last I am sure of it.

A couple of burgers on the once silver grill
now screamed their last thoughts on life.
Another day late, another dollar short.
Hart2007