Apples

Apples

Needing a place

to hang my head,

walking along

main street

downtown.

 

A reprise,

as the sun

climbs over

dirty feet.

 

And I,

looking up

at a clear blue sky,

dream about,

what could

have been.

 

The essence of energy,

slowly slips

from my painted hands.

 

And I see things

as they really are;

unmentionable.

 

Pensively shuffling

down the gutter side,

there is an apple core

on the ground.

 

With just a little meat

left on it.