"May's Daze"
Fall is back and spring's ahead.
May brings tank tops and bellbottoms.
Organ grinders find their souls.
The women wash by the waterholes.
Police units are on local patrols.
Tuesday is a funday.
Wednesday will never be a monday.
Thursday is the sauced day.
Friday is a lost day.
Saturday is really Tuesday, without the toupee.
Sunday was Monday.
Today is yesterday, too.
The days of the week are few.
There are many yesterdays.
Yesterdays are far away.
The months of a year can hear.
The bar is not far, it's very near.
I could be drunk on beer.
Out of misplaced fear.
Shed your tear.
For a hot summer's year.
In my room I will hide away.
Writing my poetry at the bottom of paper cups.
By Jonathan Billet- April 3, 2015
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