All That

More, then.
More Monk on the phono,
more rolled herb, more
bad beer, if need be,
cold if you can.

More sofa space then,
more desert, more
jumping cactus,
rose rocks,
hot nights.

More Miles brewing, more
of what you want.
More of that.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem