Mine & Wrong

This is the second poem written at a coffee bar near where I live.

my drink: copper-colored.
no, dirtier    muddier    uglier.
              drunk art.
  words slip accidental
        and sloppy
from  un    -    enlightened lips.
      drunken beauty.
                  lights drip accidental
from unen    - lightened glass globes

    and it’s all accidental
      all just drunk poetry
  all accidental
all drunk poetry
          and I just want to go on a walk
through a dead park
    there:
                where the trees are grey as the sky above
        there:
  where dead leaves lie limp in the mud
here:
              trees sway erratically,
        errotically,
if the mood is right, and
            randomly (though the wind denies it).
      trees sway greenery,
        and bright with summer,
  randomly
(though the sight abhors it.)
      and there:
    birds are silent
in a dead park

in my dead park
        I just want to be
where walk only weary fleeting souls
    where I alone draw quiet breaths,
  and sun nor moon nor stars show face,
      I want to wander aimless and                                            .alone.
      but I’m here in this crowd
            in this brightlitnighttimecelebration
sur    rOunded          by
                            the world and everything in it
          and I’m just thinking ab-