Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

all we are we owe her

he prefers his women
to be green skinned
flying monkey owning
crystal ball rubbers
with a reliable poppy dealer
and a shoe fetish
who set fire
to the happy thatch roofed house
and go poof
in a cloud of smoke
just like mommy

but i’ve already whirlwind banged
my share of snake oil salesmen
and have enough frequent flyer miles
to get me home to kansas
and back again

so fuck that balloon ride

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