Flyer Times

Throwback to my days at the Underbelly in August. I miss y’all. 

Chapped lips snack on greasy chips
Wet slips tumble to fingertips
Drip drops of drink from all the sips
Chit chat to sell out all the slips

Tights ripped from walking – top to tip
Energy rise up only to slowly dip
In disarray cured by large hair grips
Lax schedules still hold money whips

Watch people fly, they flop and flip
While we flyer and drive this ship
I grow tired, sore backs and hips
In the rain wishing to be better equipped.


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