Spear of Shake

A poem

An old dusty book,

ruined by age and page

and torn by passing fingers.

creaking cellos sound

by Bert of sure intent and

Feet of clay by the euro and

Gacks of guy garrulously

gaming the system

Looking down at my wall.

Anne of Say looks down and far away.

To see a net of sounds,

by my quiet so low the other world

with a straw of plastic

along a Shack of Shake

with fries.