Building A Better Mouse Trap

Poems I write when I should be working...

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Hueston Station

It's a shame when an old friend
from years ago dies. Too young.
A shame when you have to hear it
from another old friend
you happened to bump into at the market.

Such a shame.

Like a pretty girl
who is only craving a cigarette.

Or when there's no salt
left for your potato.

Such a shame what could have been.

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