Home » Poems » Andrew Gallagher » Senile Crowding

Senile Crowding

-  cold
the sky is crowding in my thoughts they’re on - 
		
  		  
             they’re on - wind


they’re on	       
		   
            museums (?)

and other places –
          that make me feel –


like other
	    people –
		don’t consider –

         
what I consider –


	that they
		 have –

sororities,

 	and fraternities,

	and –          -  weeping willows!...


there’s a place –

	for every spinning wheel,

	there’s a place for an ultimate demise,

there’s a place – 

                            for every number and every prime number in between.

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