The Trade Poem by Mark Sebert

The Trade
The sideways watermelon sitting on the ground
Rotting, reminds of falling leaves all around
And new television shows I will hope to watch.
Dandy isn't it, trading time for pleasure?
Egalitarian and broad in scope.

Like viewing the cycles on the washer
I hone in on the penny moving faster
Faster and louder than my beating drum
Erasing each second, I waste like come

Finish off and tie it around tight
Open the toilet, put it out of sight
Run, Run, Run, death is coming

Listen it has arrived, much to our chagrin
Unveiled its gray and wrinkled self
Sucubus or Incubus, it does not matter
Trading my life for pleasure.
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