The Chairs of Van Gogh
A long life can be a blessing tinged in blue
you may end up in a garish room
a narrow bed -a communal latrine
at the end of a one-candle hallway.
With very few friends left, if any
loves scattered about like gold flake in drought.
If they lived next door, they'd rarely visit anyhow...
The living do not fancy the foothills of death.
Every day the macabre weatherman bleats:
mind overcast with a 90% chance of sleet.
Once a week an angel may be your friend...
for a handsome fee.
Live long enough, inhale the bluing tomorrow
propped up in the straw chair of Van Gogh.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2024
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