Markers Mark

the sun rises gradually 

over Cleveland heights, 

last night I had the best

sausage sub of my life,

we played a rock show to no one, 

but that don’t matter, I was there 

for the idle chatter, 

sitting on a bar stool 

talking shit with the local misfits,

“you wanna pull an audience

you’ve gotta write some hits” 

fairy lights illuminate,

tobacco smoke twirls,

the jukebox spinning 

Louis Armstrongs 

What A Wonderful World

sobering thoughts were stark

as I swiftly downed a shot 

of Makers Mark