Oliver Wasp

Oliver Wasp was a lover.
He drank wine, and sniffed cocaine.
 Timeless as a moment's image
he disappeared and yet remained
a fantasy to those who knew him
beyond reality, almost a dream.

Middle class white,  extremely lazy 
 he yet possessed a will 
capable of commanding
any chosen skill which
 happened to be the fancy
of men blind, or crazy,
for the effervescent thrill
of understanding everything 
while pretending, still.

Oliver Wasp was killed one night
hitchhiking in the rain;
alone, but somehow unafraid,
his truth, a bloody stain.
                                richard summers 




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