Friday, March 23, 2018
Caravan of Jokers
There's a crossroad on the highway, chain gangs moaning in tunes I now know and I hum along. I kick away the pebbles which try and obstruct the path towards a destination that seemed so close but remains elusive. The pebbles have graduated into stones, then rocks and now boulders which obstruct my passage.
Labels:
2018 at 04:38PM,
caravan,
depression,
Freddy Zalta,
lost,
March 23,
organ grinder,
Some Poetry
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