Reach long and hard
to scratch the surface
linger there
without a purpose
grasp the hand
a stranger bids
you go beyond
the locks and grids
that set you up
to go down fighting
as you’re screaming
scratching, biting
rolling down the
hill of plenty
off the edge for
less than twenty
bucks to think
a man can
hand you
all you’ll drink
in half the time
it takes to wind
the lock on
heaven’s gate
and find
You came
too late!