no one-armed banned it
I kept weapons…
why not, it’s my constitutional right
–and ya gotta look after your constitution
(with mandatory health care that suits better than fine)
trigger-pullers
that even with the safety on,
can
.point.
push
or
pray,
and when engaged
can bash in
hope chest
(like that swinger Tarzan)
crammed with whimsical and eclectic items
sum of witch
are quite perishable
(rotten waffles)
others
made out of paper mache boulders
(fragile strength and pseudo stone wall)
still others
just black
(surprisingly Goth for a beach blanket bimbo)
incomplete, incalculable equations
I labor over every day,
and these are breakfast choices, too,
–nothing says “good morning” quite like uncertainty, I never say–
and the surfeit spills
into breadbasket I
often use
as a heavy bag
givin’ it the old 1-2 but never 3 because why
do that to myself?
(see: a-4-mentioned less than 3 reference which X factor is greater )
Y?
near the
bottomless pit
that accommodates my
ground beaters
–uprights
compromised by
beggin’ bones
the
oh-so-tender future veal
I save for dogs that circle back.
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