Lower Crust

[Bunx]

Edit 2
Mangled hair, worn leather boots,
ripped denim, with a
red bandanna under a
feathered fedora.

He sips coffee stationed
on a stool, speaking tales
of far away places,
where dreamers visit.

Alluring encounters entice
fire flies dancing in the heat,
illuminating a pond
filled with cattails.

Walking on gravel roads
in the summer sun,
sweat streams down
dripping off his chin.

He wanders with no aim,
as a train with no passengers
purposely patrolling endless
landscapes.

Overhearing the youth
from the table behind,
an indifferent ear
sits silently alone.

Black suit strapped to
a pale chest, glasses,
polished dress shoes,
a matching laptop.

He gazes upon his screen,
stocks quotes tell him
of a growing number,
his life's work.

Breathing deeply,
the suit strapped soul
sighs silently.




Original

Mangled hair, worn leather boots,
ripped denim jeans, with a
red bandanna under a
feathered fedora.

He sips coffee stationed
on a stool, speaking tales
of far away places.
Where dreamers visit.

Intriguing, his stories seem.
Fire flies dancing in the
summer heat, illuminating
a pond filled with cattail.

Walking on gravel roads
in the warm summer sun.
Sweat streams down
dripping off the chin.

Wandering with no aim.
A train with no passengers
purposely patrolling endless
landscapes.

Overhearing the youth
from the table behind.
Resides the antithesis
of the story teller.

Black suit strapped to
a pale chest, glasses,
polished dress shoes,
a matching laptop.

He stares upon his screen,
stocks tell him of a
growing number.
His life's work.

Breathing deep the
suit strapped soul
sighs silently.