Wednesday, October 5, 2011


Checkin’ Bob* for ticks
Rufflin’ his feathers for
Signs of alien parasites
While walkin’ thru the
Woods takin' steps to
Insure nothin’ hops a
Board ridin' his bones
Like ridin' the rails &
Beggin’ for a hand out
Knee deep in another
Depression & Bob just
Ain’t got no tolerance
For bums with a taste
For his blood & if I find
Any I give ‘em a burial
At sea / eventually / if
You know what I mean


*my dog

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