John F. Masare
jfmasare@yahoo.com |
Misspent Youth
Echoes murmur in my mind
As I watch you in a booth
I'm staring as though blind
At an image from my youth
Reckless days, careless ways
None of us would be told
Staring through a hashish haze
Suddenly I feel cold
You aren't staring - you are glaring
At a muddled fool
I turn away, slight and gray
From what I hurt, I can't say
As I hunch my shoulders at the bar
Curses reach me - you aren't that far
Stupid old man, never had a plan
What you think he wants, Stan?
He wants to be young again
So he can party with his friends
What? That loser? Crumpled boozer?
He never had no friends
Never could make ends
How do you know?
How do I know?
His ex told me so. |
