there used to be a good market
for my words; I sold them
for paychecks for 25 years;
now, in hard times, they don't
bring as much anymore,
but hardly anything does --
today, I tried to give myself away,
for free -- and was turned down:
"no thanks, you crazy old clown,
not now, hell, not even yesterday";
it makes for little wonder about
why I so desperately want to leave town;
nothing here worth staying around;
things are so bad, so down:
there's extra misery,
boxed, gift-wrapped,
and all of it is free.

February 8, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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