Poem
it's lightening , sonyou don't want it close
it'll turn you cross-eyed
and evil, thirsty for
what the Lord can't provide
something down at
the bottom of the well
clarified, but
with hands grabbin at you
no, it's way too late for
the sign of the cross, brother
you best fire up that Pontiac
and burn rubber.
from " Avenida Mañana"
posted by Mark Weber @ 2:17 AM
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