this…

this

is what
it comes
down to
dillinger
& gun
slinger
always
shooting
it out
w/the
bankers
of poetry
in some
remote
plaza
some
deserted
o k corral
& even
tho they
blow the
kneecaps
& balls
off the
bad guys
no one
is watch
ing ex
cept for
a scorpion
& a dog

 

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Filed under poems by todd moore

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