p.l. williams

you are here*
2002-06-15 00:14:40 (UTC)

clay pigeons

public housing brick complex
across they way of the road of the bar.
the looking out
for the
shake out
drop
down
man
leaving town in a tin can
blammed
crash
and pang
ping
bag
can.
stub toes on
concrete
burnt blacktop feet
propel bodys accross
always open door streets.
trick or treat
when everyday meek
stop
delete
press brain cell mystique
by drains
freaks
falling
where they meet
to compete
to live life
complete.
like skeet.

doing a puzzle. they don't spend much time looking at the
whole picture. they spend more time trying to figure out
each little piece.




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