I THROW A QUARTER

 

I throw a quarter

at the machine

and it spits it back

 

Can all hope be gone?

We merely sit and wonder

Death seems to breathe

over the cities

and countryside

 

Guns,  knives, bombs

There doesn’t seem to be

          any hope but

 

I search for a silver lining

somewhere over the bloodstained

          rainbow

 

Perhaps there is an answer

but will we ever find it?

 

7-13-86

 

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