Do My Time

Reading Allen Ginsberg meditations
On death and meaning, thinking
'Easy for you to say, buddy! You're dead!'
I hope you found
Your perfect Buddha peace
But I've still got to huff it--out here,
Down in the quagmire of life
Traversing composite cities
Stitched of the tears of countless people
Gone before, some poets, some not
Envious of Ginsberg, done with this charade
How nice it must be
To yip through that void
And leave behind faulty colon
Bad brain wiring
And receding hairline
From eyebrows
To asshole.