R. J. Zeman

Poetry about the drinking life, punk rock, recovery, heartbreak and loss. Thank you for visiting. You can reach me at nuggetsvolume1@gmx.com. If you like what you see, and would like to help me out with a donation, please go to https://www.gofundme.com/help-a-struggling-poet

Friday, November 21, 2025

Soda Machine

It's a blue,
summer day:
clouds pass by
like balls
of cotton.
She sits
on her porch,
smoking
a cigarette.
A slight breeze
from the Gulf
blows across
her legs.
She sits
and puffs:
she thinks
in whispers
and
neon colored
dreams.
Her thoughts
come fast;
sometimes happy,
often sad. 
When it's
over,
she puts out
her Camel Light
and walks back
inside. 



Posted by R. J. Zeman at 8:06 PM No comments:
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R. J. Zeman
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