Sometimes I wish I were still out
on the back porch, drinking jet fuel
with the boys, getting louder and louder
as the empty cans drop out of our paws
...
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and it is good, a way of letting life out of the box, uncapping the bottle to let the effervescence gush through the narrow, usually constricted neck. This stanga is very amazing
There's a lot under the surface of your poems. I like them all although I'm more an iambic pentameter man myself. I rhyme all the time and use assonance once or twice a year Let's have more
A very very very good poem.