Frowning ghost eyes a dreaming youth

Lost youth eyes an unforgiving clock

And the taxi waits for the Stockport poets

As eyes stare out from the broken hotel

Then the music plays another song by Cher

The men just sit and spit

With boneyard blues he drinks the wine

and tips the glass

Too early for Cher in the muffled hours

of poverty.

Bone yard grave tho...

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