Broken Hope Dreams

Sweat pours

from the heavy

bottomed tumbler,

and the ice cubes

and amber liquid

as shiny

as yesterdays

Sunday shoes.

The whiskey ninjas

flip and fight

in my blood and

brain, killing

the past and all

it's hurts.

Killing good times

and bad, because

the good ones

hurt most of all.

The Arkansas
heat challenges
a fresh drink to
a fist fight,
wearing away
at comfort and
coolness.

In hand

and soul.

A watered down drink

and broken hope dreams,

are all there are some days.

Lucky Guy

Didn't work today

the day labor place sent

a black guy named Willie

'cause he's got a car.

Too damned old to

be clearing dishes

off table's for the

wealthy folks, who

came to stay at the

swanky high rise

hotel in West
Little Rock anyway.

Woke up thinking
of my 15 year old
daughter, she hates

me, and makes no
bones about it. Out
of smokes, I walk

to the corner for
a pack, a 6 pack of
cokes for mixers

and a two dollar
scratch off ticket.
Damn, I won 30 bucks-

I'm a lucky guy.