To My Brother Jack
Passing time, several jars with you
In a public bar with bashful service
The hours fix the world with glue
Watching glasses fracture as we see
Dead end on that path of solution
Flat lines, the end of our capacity
Lead on past our dreams, behold
By this deaf of night, duplications
& why we march in darkness, cold.
© 2012 Rob Schackne
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