Hard Headed
A once healthy old man
all alone in the sand.
I reflect upon my past
The good and the bad.
All that I've had.
Why time went by so fast.
With a cough and a weeze
I rise up to my knees.
Then I roll a cigarette.
A hand through my hair.
A breath of fresh air.
At least they've not killed me yet.
Still one set of prints.
That really stinks.
No wonder I'm so lonely.
So back to my tent
where again I will vent
about losing my one and only.
Another day is done.
Wasn't that fun?
I lie down to read.
I can't find my book
though I look and I look.
So instead I smoke some weed.
A couple of good puffs
of fresh homegrown stuff.
My head vieled in fog.
Although a rarity
I have a moment of clarity
and decide to get a dog.
I now close my eyes
and await the sunrise
where it starts over again.
But such is the quandry
of this stoned, stupid and onery,
hard headed, homeless man.
Copyright © Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten | Year Posted 2010
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