Sometimes, I write poems.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Wind blew in today, a bad one.
Some said twister.
I was playing snooker at Sing-Loo's.
He sells cigarettes to all ages, for 5 cents.
We heard nothing. No ripples in my draft.
Three blocks over, Mrs. Ludder's roof left town.
And the cross on St. Brigid's skewered
Jim Blidwort's Holstein.
Rack 'em up, Eddie.
That cow was due for the abattoir.
c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009.
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