Frayed Strings
The soundtrack without sound
in a movie never made
The apple of the paring
for the pie that wasn’t baked
The scratch of itch not coming
after sneeze aborts in air
The weight of daily drubbing
knowing fair is never fair
Final stride at end of day
which began with one at dawn
The learning from your “betters”
that you’re not even pawn
Looking in the morning mirror
hoping not to see an ass
The pocket ever empty
weighing wallet’s minus mass
– Smith, 11.15.2017
Have a poem published yesterday on John Grochalski’s WINEDRUNK SIDEWALK: SHIPWRECKED IN TRUMPLAND — https://winedrunksidewalk.blogspot.com/2017/11/day-two-hundred-and-ninety-nine.html