riding round... bad title

[woodyallens]

hi guys,
just wondering what any of you think to this...


riding round

what is more sorrowful than
men in there rooms.
padding about,
bears in there places.
outlawed from the outside,
drooping in time, pony eyed.
combing the carpet for fallen
pieces of dignity, for a bit of youth to
advocate their lazy sins and
applaud their weary blues.

at a time we resided in dry winds,
trenchantly scrutinizing the horizon
for prospects and growth.
faces toughened as old leather,
numb fingered, hair matted.

now the saddle and bags are slung on
the shoulder for us.
the drooping reigns
tethered gently in loops.
we lope in the late sun
before settling. waiting till
the next kick is proficient enough
to send us scattering ahead,
to the next destination and
the next possible answer.