But that’s not in the cards. There’s no re-deal.<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Death will find me friendless and alone, chewing on my conscience like a bone. Those I tossed aside will wave to me, all together, from a boat at sea. While the dead ignore me, underground, … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[16],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2495","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poem-2"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":712,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=712","url_meta":{"origin":2495,"position":0},"title":"Revoice","author":"Rick Young","date":"February 29, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"Back from the dead, he landed on his head, and from his mouth words bled: \"There's nothing to be said.\" He'd walked into the light, prepared to be contrite, but when the light turned red, he came back home instead.","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":799,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=799","url_meta":{"origin":2495,"position":1},"title":"Tropical Arrest","author":"Rick Young","date":"December 19, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"I walked into black plastic arms and it felt like home. Perhaps the hard green soldiers had taken this beach. The beehives formed the outer edges of the strike zone. Every day the new best song came out. No fear of death. Just acceptance, and the next parameter of strangulation.\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":2782,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=2782","url_meta":{"origin":2495,"position":2},"title":"No Sax Tonight","author":"Rick Young","date":"August 18, 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"The second night, without big stars, did not go off as planned. Bill Clinton'd been to several bars and got quite out of hand. He drooled on AOC's blue dress when they were introduced. Come speech time, he was more a mess, and then his brain unloosed. \"O, Chillary,\" he\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":1764,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=1764","url_meta":{"origin":2495,"position":3},"title":"2020 On The Wall","author":"Rick Young","date":"May 16, 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"Another watchdog had to go. He sniffed around Mike Pompeo. Big Pharma will make our vaccine. The king is dead. God save the queen. Pelosi got her aid bill passed. Tomorrow morning, she'll be gassed. Grocery prices on the rise. Next year, this time: Catsup Surprise! Space Force has a\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Story"","block_context":{"text":"Story","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=34"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":1499,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=1499","url_meta":{"origin":2495,"position":4},"title":"Withering Heights","author":"Rick Young","date":"January 16, 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"There was an orange man upon the moor who walked as if his feet were very sore. He trampled on the gorse, a stumbling ox off course. His makeup made him seem somewhat the whore. I'm looking for my golf course he did shout, or otherwise I would not be\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":1418,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=1418","url_meta":{"origin":2495,"position":5},"title":"Art Kills","author":"Rick Young","date":"June 20, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"He drove a pencil through the webbing of his palm. I needed lead, he said, and then applied a balm. He poured a morning drink, something he called a buffer. He had a firm belief an artist has to suffer. His every action aimed at feeling precious pain. 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