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April 15, 2024


By Jay Passer


the politicos dropped the ball,
you threw a brick,
killed a scab,
then dropped the baby.

she sang to the gin mill crowd
festooned with dreamscapes
until sub-zero temperatures forced her
to trade hand jobs for warmth.

you waited for the next bottle to drop
and for her to die
before you finally went home.
but boy, could she really sing.

Article © Jay Passer. All rights reserved.
Published on 2021-04-26
Image(s) are public domain.
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