THESE ARE NOT POEMS 1.6.17

1.6.17

(Spoken by a balding man, standing three feet away from me, in Hollywood CA, at ~4:15 in the afternoon)

I’m going to light

a fat blunt after this,

and then call this

a Fucking Friday.

 

 

1.6.17

(Spoken from one middle-aged man to another, while exiting a white van, in Hollywood CA, at ~4:30 in the afternoon)

Goodbye, you sonofabitch. You

are a sonofabitch. Did

you know that?

Yeah, I know.

You are a major sonofabitch.

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