Looking at Life
There’s guys in here who
guys in here, listen, there's
guys in here
when you suck in
that mouth of shit
trash talk
and just in time
wipe your lips
you’ll hear
their stories.
I’ve been places you aint. or
She
was a sweet piece. or
It
wasn’t me. or
I don’t have
stories. I’m like this one
guy they call him little
john cock being pretty
as a bantam rooster, copper
red and nickel small (I’ll
give
him four cents. I owe him
more) : listen
listen: first day I’m in
he sees I’m not Jesus on
the water
but maybe I was in the boat
once
and he circles and
scratches
while I set bed clothes
jumpers
Velcro shoes
tips his jaw to hear
the cat
calls
I see him
spit
and walk off
for years
and watch from taller
places
and we never once talked
but I never heard
that whistle again never
once
bent into the
cliché
ass, and I
bet it’s him
I should tip my own jaw
to.
No one ever tells me why
he’s in—just he got life
when his wife got killed
on a
snowy road
and some kid
got up
and walked
away, just
fucking
walked away.
You believe
that shit?
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