Bullets, pills and change

I have a little jar filled with waterlogged seroquels, oxidized coins 

and bullets I’ll never use. 

A bubblegum machine, full of far out dreams and Winnebago plans. 

All the while, anticipating the abrupt crunch of fallen branches underfoot, beaches that ebb and flow, the reopening of all you can eat buffets and an overnight resurgence of Rock-n-Roll.


R.M.S. 7-26-21

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