is fierce in the sun
I drank half the pint
coming down from the mountain.
holding on to the guardrail
the metal hot in my hands
puking bile and brown liquor
into the bushes and vines
on the side of the hill,
all I want is to stick out my thumb
catch a ride
find my way home
Poetry
brown liquor
Larry is rolling towards geezerhood with a smile on his face. He has been everything from a door to door vacuum cleaner salesman to a restaurant owner. He currently works in real estate. His one true love has always been literature and he is thrilled to be writing poetry. He hopes you enjoy.
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