for jim daniels
poems or gears covered in grease
it’s doesn’t matter
it’s all a factory in your brain
when i pick up a book
at the bookstore
in local mall
before a reading
i’m not thinking that the author
could still go to bed hungry
both the mall
& the bookstore
now long gone
time demolishes everything
except regret
& ten bucks
doesn’t buy much anymore
except peace of mind
on an
empty stomach.