Bamboozled Poem by William F Dougherty
Bamboozled
Arthur rubbed his bristly chin
with the back of a quaking hand,
frowned at the crumpled paper,
squinted, straining to understand.
The note gave only a new address,
no message, or any reason why-
a mystery hidden under the gin,
between the bourbon and the rye.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
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5/4/2024 8:36:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Where was Jack? Red or Black. Nice sobering poem.