Dropping 60 cents in a soda machine

and not getting my Dr. Pepper

wondering who’s winning the cold war

between Pepsi and Coke;

waiting for an atom bomb to be dropped

and somberly carrying on.


Moving along upon seeing

a cop car riding down the street

officer auspiciously spying me;

waiting, wanting to make a bust


But I get out just in time

slowly saunter away; head for home

to safely slip into sweet dreams.




Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is from a old notebook written in 1982.  No notes on the poem but it seems a vending machine made an ineffectual enemy that day.

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allets's picture

I Like The Sense Of Humor

And he did not get his soda (in the midwest we call it pop, bye the bye). ~(:D)-



georgeschaefer's picture

So it's a pop machine then? 

So it's a pop machine then?  I'll try to remember that.