I can’t be the luck I have read about,
Bukowski talked of days like this.
I am the luck of my travels,
Which are few and far between today.
I can’t be of this generation,
I strive to find something new.
I am the lack of direction you see,
In your rear view mirror passing near.
I can’t be a word of wisdom in your ear,
Frost was the last to pass that on.
I am the strife of today and technology,
And the undefinable word spelled LIES.
I can’t be these words,
I know they are borrowed facts.
I am the aristocrat of truth,
And to the definition I give none.
I can be what I quote,
Just give me some ease.
I am poor and rich gathered as one,
And to tonight I belong to neither one.