Poetic Just Us (An encore)

(5th and last of a mini-series of taking poetic license)

Three players on the sidewalk,
Watching passersby and listen to their talk;
That’s just us.

Together we used to make music;
We were quite therapeutic;
That was just us.

We played rock, funk, and blues;
Now we never make the news;
That’s just us.

We’ve been put out to pasture,
Open to any snatcher;
That’s just us.

You may also want to read the rest of the series:
1st
2nd
3rd
4th

The Carnery

Image: Pixabay

The daily grind grounds Pete to the ground, like the meat he grinds to make the daily meatball grinder, the star of The Carnery, his eatery and meat shop. Day in, day out, Pete is like the meat he first pounds with his mallet. His routine is not much different from how his father described his own time at the cannery back in the day. Nor the stories his grandfather told him way back when he was a carney. Hard work is stamped in his DNA. As Pete pounds away at the meat, he thinks how Connor, his son, seems to be enjoying the fruits of his labor. Pete sent Connor to the best schools and drummed into his head the idea of seizing every opportunity he sees. As a high-powered Wall Streeter, Connor is today a true carnivore.