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Poem 100: Fun To Decay At The YMCA

 

Fun To Decay At The YMCA


A lot of people live here.

Others come just to work out.

Some sneak six-packs of beer

into their rooms; another wanders about


drunk or high, looking for a girl.

Often one that feels out of place.

It makes me want to hurl,

right into his face.


People try to give me drugs

and invite me to their rooms.

Some lonely people just want hugs.

The janitor says people keep stealing his brooms.


People come in from outside stoned

or high as a kite.

One guy said he owned

his wife, and that she wasn’t allowed to argue or fight.


People are on methadone

and psychiatric drugs as well.

Some people hang out all alone

in their private hell.


People sell their medication

they got from a doctor for their “pain”.

Some people are just here on vacation.

Well, they won’t come here again.


People here have no place to go.

Without this place they’d be outside.

I ask to be left alone, but no.

There really is no place to hide.


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