saw ‘im at the store, yeah

(The poet actually avoided this predictably narcissistic scene yesterday by chillin’ for a good forty minutes in that parking lot before going in to shop, giving this troubled soul time for a peaceful departure)




“i’m sorry
you feel bad
about what i
didn’t even do”

just walk
around ‘im


he might be in a mood
to slum it with the ‘trailer trash’

but i’m not


Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Become a patron of the fine arts at:

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