gone are the days of love for money
i should know, i am quite broke

so as all do, i live for the "honey"
of a 4 am waitress with a root bear float

some days are like omelets
burned out eggs left fertilized

others are like all-in bets
rotting dreams unrealized

today i'll choke on a cigar
and undress to music i played in college

and midday i will drive a car
into a businesswoman with nice cleavage

i'll end it like i end these poems
disgusted at the crap i've done

gone are the days of love for poems
i should know, i am quite alone