Tuesday, June 2, 2009

A Poem

The sun is setting

Quiet

Your make up finished

The Psyche docs await their return

Street crazies stir

A menacing horse is mounted

Hopes of a warm bed

Loud speakers un noticed

Pan handling done

A hand held net cannon

Familiar trek back

Deafening horns terrify

Panic

You thunder into the frenzy

The Ape has a GUN!

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