Death of a Salesman,
revisited.



rolling home on tired wheels,
choking back tears of fatigue and disappointment,
out turned pockets....again- God, third time this week,
filthy, yellowed hands- wrinkling to 50 a tender 25,
belly full of heartache (a cultivated taste),
weary eyes, worn red- to match a weary heart,
20 cents from empty, 40 to a bed...
It's a powerful kind of lonely
that's holding me tonight.



inspired, in part, by the 5th ace.