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May 2018
striking up another cigarette
like the band playing Krupa
or Giuseppe or Calloway
and slurping hot coffee
in the kitchen,
paying no attention to the
stains of the unclothed tabletop
with the rings from my coffee cup
as I’m watching the tabby cat
through the emitted smoke,
slinking on the broken fence,
eyes zoning in on the oriole
roosting on the branch of an oak tree,
chirping with the morning breeze and
targeting the writhing worm for food
with sharp precision while it wiggles
and burrows it’s way into the dirt,
peeved from the struggle and
resting alongside
the golden pieces of my ex-lovers
bludgeoned inlaid skull and her
remains decaying under the grass
where I wrapped her up in with the
missing table cloth and buried
her in my own backyard

there’s only one way to get out
of this inescapable vicious cycle
of vindictiveness and pestilence
like a martyr being crucified by
the idolatrous or the plastered saint
and we act as if we’re the blind man,
galloping down the gravel road
towards the gallows with jubilation
and the noose hanging from the tree
sings our names proudly like
hymns from the angels choir
we drink from the
poisoned well
with delight
while squirming frantically
and dangling
like anchovies
on a baited hook
above
a battery
of barracudas

the sirens arrived and
at least there was enough
coffee and cigarettes
until the constables found me

as I glibly explained
my way out of the whereabouts
to my ex-lover’s body that was
never accounted for

like skipping stones of brainpower
across the pond of iota minds
Rick the shoe shine boy
Written by
Rick the shoe shine boy  35/M/Couch to couch USA
(35/M/Couch to couch USA)   
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