My Old Pop Star In His Place
 
In electric networks, who blinked big pleasure
You sang in beeps: as if science was your language
Spade-fisted fashion (I was another fool in line)
But so were you
And yet with the singer’s winning hand
Given freely by cocaine gods
You failed, fell, swallowed
Just standing in fortune’s sun-blast
I put my hand out to you
And you stepped back
In a horror
From me:
A man
Text and Images © Andrew Auten – All Rights Reserved
