Loser

He was ranting, as his sort is wont
To do, three beers in in the bar in
Elk City, complaining the race
Is in danger, besieged by blacks
And Hispanics, and uppity women,
And sexual perverts of various types.
Assuming that I was an ally, he told
Me, "We must stand together and act,
Or we're finished." I looked at his dull
Eyes, his long, greasy hair, and thought
Of his brother, who'd overdosed
Recently, thought of his girlfriend,
Torqued up on speed, and said
To myself as I got up to leave,
"All of you are too far gone to save."




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2019-11-05 at 15:53

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thomas d The PoetBay support member heart!
Excellent portraiture. Quite strong.
2019-11-06