Sullen

sullen faces on everybody like mannequins
stale and plastic like their thoughts
bouncing from one to the next  
rooted in envy of the guy in the public 
parking lot , who happens to be the 
one that is so witty, they go home 
to their bomb shelters and play poker 
till dawn , who dealt this hand ?
did i make the right choice in life ?
can life be separated from the 
haves and have nothings 
but a morning of i have too's  
sure beat a nothing hand
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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