|
Tom Miller |
|
whore the dirty dollars contaminated with gonorrhea typhoid plague and death she licks each bill unveils her saucy oyster green with e-coli and they say avoid during months with "r" but it's all dirty and so am i this april The beggar poem he asked for change and I asked him is this for beer? No sir he said my wife is in the hospital I just need forty-nine cents for the phone call I have a phone in my car I said well sir I need the money for gas you see and I said it's beer isn't it? No sir he insisted I need to feed my children and my wife's in the hospital and I ain't got no gasoline okay I said and gave him a dollar he thanked me blessed me with god walked to the all night market and bought a beer And I hoped his wife and kids wouldn't mind waiting a little while longer poetry girl put into submission i told her no specifications of length but poems of less than 40 lines had a better chance with me she was a talker i told her i do not comment on rejections she rhymed no greeting card verse no simultaneous submission she was predictable, abstract, and cliche-ridden i can not use you i said i am literature, she roared hear me rant i sent her back |