david jewell poet

words. photos. images. whatnot.

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The wreckers I have

humbled by the furry dogs 

near the Hilton 

all the thank you robots 

in the lobby lines 

somersault by the hats.

Time plays with its umbrella

and feeds us to the bartender, 

doing tricks ~ (Twirling bottles 

In the air)

as if he were a gigolo

trying to impress —

evolutionary lack of caution 

makes me roll the dice 

ever more frenetically 

across the sweet green fur

of the table, 

and then spin the roulette wheel 

ever more frantically ~

betting red and black,  and 

red,  and black,  and even zero 

from time to time…. 

like its nothing.  

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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