leaning against a lamp-post

watching this
poor bastard
change the lettering
on a sign
outside the
mattress store.

now would
be the time
to find god
or take up yoga

here
as i squander
the first years
of my third decade

drinking myself
clean
to the marrow.

i think
this is the point
where most people
let go

surrender
to the world

becoming amorphous

forgettable
like the clouds.

"red tag sale
iowa made
iowa proud."
says the
poor bastard's
sign.

he puts down
the long pole
and lights a cigarette

nodding to me
from across
the street.