The Dealer

Your suit betrays you as you sit there,
smoking hazy days away,
hot seething nights with
incandescent moons drifting
like you do.

It’s the tie I think,
the patterned delicate rays
that play with passersby
stunned and silent,
deaf and dumb
you hypnotize.

You deal it out like candy to babies,
their high for simple fructose,
their corn for nebulous syrup,
and with it,
you hypnotize.


One comment

  1. weekdaypoet

    Almost every word is great (I’m a little wary of the use of “incandescent” in poems anymore, it’s overused… love “like you do,” though, it’s such an old-school R&B echo.)

    I like the inspiration from the streets… these poems really are inspired by bits of America… I too often feel like I’m creating stuff from a fantasy world of air.

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