it’s a savage

get a beastly drink

in the marketing rink,

with an eye for targeting

a life to be rich

in a glory of joy,

and a smidget in widgets

bouncing off the walls in romance

in the little things.

is there room for a sing song poet

in the world all over –

where the good stuff

just drops in my lap,

like a little magic.

this i swear is a companion –

in a got something

underneath a poor

workingman’s sweat ridden

cowboy hat to boot

in a dripping poet’s manuever

with a scheme in the team scene.