my legs


with twelve

hours of running in place

to power yakuza money laundering



but today is rest

and not having to

hide the smell of death

as last nites scotch leaves me

to make room


balls hanging out the right leg

of my boxers

picking a couple days lint

from my belly

button cups

of coffee


its enough to make any man


letters with nowhere to go

and phones that never ring

bombs in the nite

and the little girls

that will never learn how to swim

jeffery dahmer

and sadaam housein

grain rotting in the silos

and the 37 that froze to death

in the streets of boston

this winter

bill gates

and what id do

for the money he makes

every time he takes a shit


and when hunger

overtakes wanting another


its close enough

to being glad

im alive


i smile

just a little

in relief

at being able

to name the emptiness

for just a moment

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