Thursday, June 30, 2011

spilling beans

The cold and dusty shoulder of solitude
Can just kiss my untanned a*&
That is what I say

I have realized that my gift
Is to speak the truth (sometimes)
That nobody, not even I, wants to hear

like the dark-clothed, blank staring old man in my classroom who most folks turned their nose at...
by the end of the quarter
he was the one that most raised a glass to

I may not always tell the truth,
But most of the time
It’s harder not to.

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