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One Way Out
No one allowed in
Not even barbed wire fetishists
Or concrete expansions

No sexy blue-eyes from the West
Not even loving brothers of art
Or inspirational rebels of Sunday

No flexible IV drugs
Not even spinal taps, spect scans, and MRIs
Or doctors from Pennsylvania

No pop artists
Not even previous grocery baggers
Or today's best interest

No women from the womb
Not even from authors of Mars
Or Vietnam writers and golden makers

No papas from hills and trees
Not even superb bombers
Or home-made cookie makers

No more salty tears
Not even a trace and scent
Or a remainder of my existence.

 1999 David Greg Harth @ FLT#116