These five words
contain all of life.


The necromancer is pretending
to read Soldier of Fortune
while the batteries in his
hearing aid slowly die.


He's remembering things
that he usually forgets.
He lays down on the
freshly mown grass
annd gazes up at
an impeccable turquoise sky,


wild with promises
of peaches and cream and
money, money, money.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sad-mad-holy-tragic-magic/