this isn't one of my best, but I'm trying to do some writing every day: Rain Date, a brief poem by Sheri

Rain Date

I would have questioned the man

who fills promises full of quarters

for use of machines long since gone

and then playing with one's mind

its eye is constantly twitching

but sees where the divide cuts

through the rhetoric and stops

short of being right or wrong

I would have questioned the man

again and again who runs power

plays over a barrier we only had

to go around or could anyone

really walk away from the man

who cashes in all those quarters

like dreams.