Outside Looking Inn
Hiding again from the dazzling sun
Why am I here, I’ve no clue
There’s no necessity to walk around
No urgent business to do
Sounds like I’m killing the time, but I’m not
It is exactly the opposite
Time is the killer in this endless plot
With a space, an accomplice of it
It’s never a conscious purpose of mine
To sit in the Outside Looking Inn
One time its whiskey, one time its wine
And sometime a deluted gin
I wonder if Mr. Debussy comes round
With his friends Ravel and Satie
I guess they would talk to themselves rather loud
It would have been quite a party
And I can imagine me in Deux Magots
Mr. Jean Paul Sartre puts his pipe out
And says if one proves what existence is for
I’ll buy for the house a round
I’m pleasing myself with illusions, you’d say
I have to agree, in this place
Out of sight, my time shuffles away
With its old accomplice, a space.
Copyright © Gregory Colodub | Year Posted 2024
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