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Breath of an Orangutan, and Twice the Fur

speak dumb

pick a plum

grow a harvest of hallelujahs

and save me some

sojourn your sour-burned tongue

relax and act young

fly by the motorcycle store

and over the orange grove bums

the take-me-mores and the hollywood blood

past heaps of ankle-biters

and side-show detractors

one moment

you’re howling at the moon

just like a dictator

the next your eating

steel cherries and

talking ‘bout actors.

imagine the sight of this

through the eyes of a young zebra

after knowing what we did

to the leos, capricorns, cancers

and worse

what we did to the lone

without-a-hope Libra

still remember?

still september?

still slinging fruit and dreading december?

still wheeling loose and drawing rivers?

ever need a second third hand or an extra lever?

ever need nothing

and nothing was all you were getting?

ever take home Ulysses S. Grant

then found out it was a pretender?

ever need a win for morale

but would take an easy surrender?

Answer as soon as you please

Take your songs

I don’t know ‘em

I don’t want ‘em

- if you ever sang one

  it’s has been thoroughly

  forgotten.

sincere salutations from the south

your pasta fryer


- Wild B. Cotton.

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