I'm Becoming RestlessI've grown weary of chamomile tea, I'm afraid.
I am finished with jazz and poetry readings.
I'd rather not not raise my voice in this room.
Can't we briefly be savage, drink our coffee
Black, and endanger the windows with “God Save
Queen” played at ear-bleeding volume in this
Precious space, in which no one's been drawing,
In spite of its name? Elegance surely is better
Than squalor, and manners are handy, but some
Of the grit of uncivilized living might help us
To burnish our lives.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2021-09-15 at 17:16
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