Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Frack - O - Matic !

Broken hope

With a cash stream that’s run dry,

He packs up his lonely belongings

Along with a wallet photo 

Of a distant dream,

Heading for the Promised Land

Of toil and sweat and dirt

And a paycheck to lure back that vision,

So out of reach,

With the swarming and hostile streets

And the locker-room filth and stench

In a crammed shared room

With others trying to vie their way

Back from a lost world

Where nothing else is left

But the oil and the salt

And the chance of luck

Conjured up in the amber

At the bottom of a shot glass.

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