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Balding head, across the boulevard, catching drops of rain, falling hard, cars and trucks travelling fast, weather warning was plain, for all to see, watching the drops bounce off, where they land, the strain, in him is obvious, his coat sheds water like a duck, the burden he carries tight to his chest, he stops and moves and stops again, points prepares to fight, shadows in the downpour, he talks, then shouts maybe he likes the sound of his mighty voice, all alone, he stops and confronts a telephone pole, others pass by, not staring, to get his ire, what he held to his chest, was dear to him and had to stay dry, carrying his shoes, high so his shuffle was in soaked sock feet, he had his mannerisms, wearing plainly for all to see, he only had socks on his feet between him and the rain swept                                                          ground and street. He may have needed more, he was tweaking, maybe he needed less, was it **** or worse, he was still walking and still cursing, confess to the gods, he would make it through the day, against the odds. Doin' the Boulevard Shuffle, it isn't hard, until you have to live it.
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Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
The Boulevard Shuffle
Balding head, across the boulevard, catching drops of rain, falling hard, cars and trucks travelling fast, weather warning was plain, for all to see, watching the drops bounce off, where they land, the strain, in him is obvious, his coat sheds water like a duck, the burden he carries tight to his chest, he stops and moves and stops again, points prepares to fight, shadows in the downpour, he talks, then shouts maybe he likes the sound of his mighty voice, all alone, he stops and confronts a telephone pole, others pass by, not staring, to get his ire, what he held to his chest, was dear to him and had to stay dry, carrying his shoes, high so his shuffle was in soaked sock feet, he had his mannerisms, wearing plainly for all to see, he only had socks on his feet between him and the rain swept                                                          ground and street. He may have needed more, he was tweaking, maybe he needed less, was it **** or worse, he was still walking and still cursing, confess to the gods, he would make it through the day, against the odds. Doin' the Boulevard Shuffle, it isn't hard, until you have to live it.
darrell-wade-elverum
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Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
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