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It's A Cinch

Yeah, I found the Plymouth where you said you'd leave it
and the trail of Coors cans that kept me goin fore they petered out.
Been camped here three weeks.
My food's runnin low an I'm pissed.
Wherever you've gone
can't be that good.
Maybe it's best we split,
I'm bout due for a rest an followin you
ain't no fun...member tha time in Denver
when I'd hang round the Squire
til you got off. I liked that. Seein you
ditch the boss t'leave with me.
An the scene in Chi.
when the x-cop tried to make time an I had to pistol-whip the
jus to get you out (spent 6 weeks in the slam & never did know
      where you'd gone).
Ain't this never gonna stop, truckin over hell
an freezin my ass t'boot.
One more day an I'm gone.
Even if you show'd right now, even
if that light's your car, I don't think I'd care.
But then, I've known worse, I guess, an if it's you comin on so slow
I'll make room and maybe find a bit a food,
you must be hungry after all this time. It's a cinch
I ain't gonna starve the best piece a ass in North Kansas.


Barcelona Diary
It's Mother's Day
By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour
The Man With His Back To The Room
Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories
Homage to a Widow
It's Only TV
Improvisations - Chapbook
After Goya
Improvisations - From Contemporary Music
Mustering What's Left