Poetry to spill your soup over.

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I cannot lose right now

Every bet, every instinct. All right.

I better ride the wave of “Luxury Boating”

That’s what my father calls it,

We both stare into a dark alley

Mine is predicated with light

You have no idea how scary this is

For this month of good tidings

This small fortune bestowed upon

The raga of wealth being played by an unknown plucker

Is being followed by a wave of loss so strong,

So abundant,

It’ll knock me down to my dick skinners

When that happens, when that shoe drops…

My best work will come from it.

It’s a give and take,

Thank goodness for give.

By Joe Sonnenblick

From: United States

Instagram: J.sonnenblickpoetry