idle humidity


8/27/18 10:35Pm


where do you find yourself

on balmy sunday nights

when the grass has been cut 

and it hangs in air like low fog

of glistening green


i find myself sitting

looking out over the lake

as urban deer stare at me 

not working


i can’t believe i’m being paid

to sit here and read kerouac

i cried,  before shoving corned beef

down my throat


that’s not what they pay for

you’re a janitor, wearing rags

though i still feel like a king

among the many dumpsters


waste is a theme

around my hometown

and it seems people excel


wings, riptide, dry rub

and humidity all night long



  • Author: Big Swifty (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 27th, 2018 21:41
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 9
  • User favorite of this poem: Lorna.


  • Lorna

    Good grief where did you come from...... a new kerouac........

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