by Colin James
Cash is the drug of choice.
I'd hidden mine
under a large rock like in
the film Treasure Of The Sierre Madre
guarded by a growing monster.
What's in your symbolism?
Thought about such things afterwards.
Oh yeah I see what you mean,
kept hanging around like coincidence.
No water but plenty of booze.
Cigarettes I enthusiastically smoke them
despite my spotty lungs.
Everyone knows the heart pumps blood in
you get out what you get out.
Surviving is not the point.
I've left a little do ray me for you
if you happen to find this note.
The likelihood is you won't.
Colin James has a couple of chapbooks of poetry published. Dreams Of The Really Annoying from Writing Knights Press and A Thoroughness Not Deprived of Absurdity from Piski's Porch Press and a book of poems, Resisting Probability, from Sagging Meniscus Press. Formally from the UK, he now lives in Massachusetts.