The Long Street

Oh wake snakes & walk your chalks.

take a break & look.
self-flags flying in reverse floorboarded back past a dozen wars & American manifests.

a man brown-bearded & dressed in a buffalo-plaid lumber-shirt spits a sparkling sidewinder of tobacco juice from a buggy seat.
that's real horsehair in back of a real horse.

mercy me God must be a perfectly ordinary individual.
perfectly.

& me mercy me me atomic hailgrains & rat & tat.
worn pieces & flakes breaking down snakewise in a motley cancer cell say.
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