Scavenging
All the boys crammed
The puncture of evanescence
Like kings with poly-vinyl thrones
Eyes moseying the harried ducts
Prying, calculating, or simply
Living on the surface of things
Life ebbed and they're still
A wolf pack; licking legs,
Grinding fangs, cigarette parting
The superfluous lips
And I was there, somersaulting
Behind the surrealistic blur
Scavenging amongst the wolves:
A swarthy incompetent sot
With an illustrious frivolity
Of a decaying carrion
In the wolves' den,
Prying, calculating
The oddities.
Many a men can,
I'm a man who wouldn't
Or more apt, can not
Become a member of the pack.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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