crossroad, a blues?

there are all these
words floating around
in my head

hard words / soft words
words i don’t want to
dance with or chitchat about

words that fill me with
angst and dread
words that block and

stifling are reminiscent
of rifles sprouting off
in parking lots near city

skyways where babies
are arranged in sandboxes

an invading army
make my legs go
unsteady at a crossroad

like sam cooke’s predecessor
the devil is seductive
taking me for a ride i know

will cost much more than
pride i swallow slowly
like gin sipped from jars

still stained with jelly
made from pork back and rind
these words make me crazy

sounding off in my head
won’t leave me alone
stringing them together like

puzzle pieces laid on green
tables i can’t find the end parts
and there’s only nonsense in

the middle so…
i guess its a novel
in there somewhere

maybe its time

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