At the four seasons

November 21, 2010

The veins
in the marble floor
of the Four Seasons,
could tell you stories;
about the eighty year old
Lady in the Ed Hardy cap
and Silver Goose head on cane,
or fuming thirty something,
clutching her baby like a sack of shit,
eyes red from crying;
Or me in the soft chair, waiting

The veins could tell you stories.
They just can’t be bothered.

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3 Responses to “At the four seasons”

  1. The veins
    in the marble floor

    interresting opening,

  2. […] At the four seasons (via Forpuck – Poems by Anton Gourman) Posted: November 28, 2010 by CrowPieD/MargoT in Uncategorized 0 The veins in the marble floor of the Four Seasons, could tell you stories; about the eighty year old Lady in the Ed Hardy cap and Silver Goose head on cane, or fuming thirty something, clutching her baby like a sack of shit, eyes red from crying; Or me in the soft chair, waiting The veins could tell you stories. They just can't be bothered. … Read More […]

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