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by Fyn Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Friendship · #2277291
A friend. Will he never, ever learn? I think not.


We walked around her
like wagons circled,
when word arrows flew--
dodged arrowheads and bullets.
A close call when he called
to run away, to return to sinking ship,
the derailed empty boxcar.

Empty man who cannot choose
to savor the feast; preferring rat poison
doled out like candy--
does he think so little of himself
that he grovels for droppings?
Tigers never change their stripes
for hearts.
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