Still he takes another toke
Whiskey added to the brew
His dealer generous to a fault
Even offers him a bed
But the road beckons
Another night to been seen through
And he’s out and driving
Lights turning purple, pink, blue
Intense colours without meaning
And he keeps on driving
Seeking out motels
Where the straight might mean leaning
If he lies in bed
Eyes glued to the immobile fan
Waiting for shit to happen
Something
Anything
Maybe here dreams will come true.
©Shaun Green 2011
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