yes, bottom's drop out...

when you can't feel sunlight across your chin
because [it seems] no reason to love
remains
and you want to toss down the heavy-bottomed glass of
whiskey
after tossing it down your throat
and you want to feel empty
instead of so-full of someone Else's balloon-blown-air

when you've walked aimlessly about the city town village metropolis
in your mind
and you've sought what you seek
and you've breathed in deep
and when you've cleared your flow
and that was your cue
and you've spent your wad filling the void

where does it leave you?
why did it take you?
where did you go?
in the duality of non-conformity can't you bend
all hoola-hoop
through it
and mine
the return
on the other side
sorting through the silver-flecked-ashes
for the remnants of
your character
your audacity
of hope
--no more than your
god given
right--
can't you pick your silly head up off that concrete slab
laugh a little laugh
and try again?