BUSINESS BLUES
by
JONATHAN VOS POST
My coat's dry-cleaned, but my throat is dry
so I clutch the keys to my rented car
while trying to catch the waitress' eye:
Happy Hour, haunting the taco bar
"Bottoms up" says button-down shirt
though the bill builds up and the rain may pour.
The city's new, but I know this hurt:
I feel that I've been in this state before.
If I could fly with my wing-tip shoes
I'd leave this baggage far behind
The sky would swallow my business blues
the moon white-out my shadowed mind
Yet darkness, drink, and my soul decline
the bottomless pit of the bottom line.
1900-1946
18 feb 85
Huntsville, AL
Copyright 1996, 1997 by Emerald City Publishing.
All rights reserved. May not be reproduced without permission.
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