The Wall

I’m not him. I never was. I never will be.
Potbellied,  flip flops, balding
A modern day Larry from the Three stooges
A giant billowing blue shirt
Images of a sunny beach
And a surfboard
His shiny new pickup red, chrome
Much needed for someone of his substantial girth
And height
He pulls up all smiles and winks and flirty glances
All for the girls at the cash
He reeks of booze and suntan lotion
He walks to the pharmacy and picks up his prescription
Requests to be served by his friend the pharmacist
Who barely seems to know him
Pays for his viagara quietly
Refuses a discussion on side effects
Puts it in the bag with his cheese puffs
Drives away, Pink Floyd blaring into the night


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