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People...
people working forty hours a week at minimum wage and liking it. starving dogs covered in blood-sucking
tics hating it. winos standing on street corners watching spiders crawl from their eyes begging for what would cure it. men
with painful blisters on their sex parts wondering how to get rid of them or who to infect next with them. religious people
perpetually praying to something they cannot, have not and will not ever see unless they, of course, give back all the money
and say im sorry and even then no one really knows for sure, except for the dead and, brother, they aint saying shit. cockroaches
waiting for lights out. cows blissfully standing round not even aware of becoming ground round. whores wanting to lie down
alone. babies growing up with mothers and without fathers. deer-hunting white men with KKK tattoos hidden away somewhere between
their balls and their anus, saying, 'fuck them niggers.' black men saying, 'hey, homey, were just as good as you.' women using
their cunts as money banks. corporate men using their money to corrupt and swindle and bend the law and get off the hook easy.
the streets are hard and cold for everyone everywhere even in this backwoods snuff-dippin Cowtown --- if you dont believe
me just check the hole-filled soles on the shoes of the washed out homeless. they drift by all day long choking on the fumes
from $35,000 cars. i doubt any of you would stoop that low unless a profit could be made. but thats all right. youve been
force fed, taught that way ever since you were old enough to wipe the shit off your butts. a man came in today --- his need
for personal hygiene had been beaten out of him at an early age like a rag. he asked me for a cigarette. i told him i aint
got no more. the wrinkles round his eyes told me thats okay. then his toothless mouth opened up again. 'im collecting aluminum
cans. do you have any laying around?' i went into a back room and returned with a black bag full of cans left behind by some
other desperate, street-scanning cancer. he picked them up, saying, 'thanks, mister.' he went away leaving a rancid puddle
of stale beer, soda, water, piss, spit and god only knows what on my floor. i got down on my hands and knees and licked it
up like a watering dog on a dry run. thats just my way of saying, 'hey, man, no fucking problem. anytime...'
pickn' ticks off the dog
85 years old and cross-eyed he
told the little black & white dog to roll over on his back. he did. he told me to hand him the pliers. i did. he took
the pliers and started pulling at ticks on the dog's belly. the dog began to yelp and squall real loud. i looked down and
he wasn't pulling ticks he was trying to pull the dog's tits off. i stopped him & said let me help you. the dog looked
up at me and said, "thanks, city boy, cause this ain't the first time this has happened, jesus..."
The Meek, &
People with Hair on Their Backs
Walking back from the store
me w/ my 6 pack & my son of
6 years w/ his bag of candy.
He all of a sudden took off
In the other direction yelln,
im gon this way and not coming
back, haaa haaa ha!
yea right. You wont do it,
cause you aint got the guts.
Back at my side he says, daddy
everybodies got guts.
yea, you may be right, I says
but son, very few people know
how or when to use them.
Walking along in silence, I
could tell that he was thinking
real hard.
His hair looked like spider webs
made of gold whisking in the
wind and sunshine
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