Wednesday Pop

Loops, up and down.
Slide into dreams
and the afternoon
slips like a bad song.

Zigzag, left and right.
Dive into cold waters
and the summer heat is
gone like an end time.

Circles, on and on.
Run into the lines
of a smoked marathon and
drunk are the fighters.

Pop, jam and jump.
Sucked into the world
of garbage floors where sex
talks cheaper on magazines.

2015

About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
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