Mascara tears drizzle down her cheek,
a few more beers and it’s not so bleak.
Take me for a ride,
one phenomenal ride,
past prison bars and distant stars,
fat bass busting out my speakers,
steal a brand-new pair of sneakers,
brimming with satire ’round the campfire.
Barbarians at the gate,
fueled by nothing more than hate.
Really? A wrinkle in space and time?
Your philosophy ain’t worth one thin dime…
– Kurt Poleet
“When everything was ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled a tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to whom he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the need, even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with this stranger.” – Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace