Edge Portrait #1
(By Walter Beck)
The old man
Remembered what it was
To be in his twenties;
Young, wild and free.
Envisioning
My half-crazy friends
Rolling around
On the floor
Of a dirty artist’s apartment;
Naked, sweaty
Loopy on booze and poppers,
Still high
From a killer show.
Shelter in the flesh
From the storms around us;
Shelter in the flesh, page and stage.
“You just sit
Things get worse and
Watch TV and drink your beer.”
Flat sober and splayed on the bed
With a cigarette cocked in my hand;
Nothing on
But the Colors.
Is this what the edge
Of success feels like?
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