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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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EREK SMITH
morning traffic driving home in the morning wearing clothes that stink of the night previous i slam on the brakes to avoid hitting an old man in a beat-up car that cut me off & instead of honking or giving him the finger or yelling out the window i just squeeze the steering wheel & let him drive on it's not his fault he is most likely on his way to a job he hates to help feed the wife he doesn't love anymore & doesn't fuck him anymore & the kids that don't listen to him & to pay for the house to live a little longer in the world that forgot to show him some compassion so letting him drive on & helping him get to the noose a little faster to put him out of his misery is the only compassionate thing i can do. the man in line in front of me at the pawn shop has syringe scars on his arms hands the broker a box of video games a kid tugs on his pants leg "dad, when can i get my games back?" not all violence is physical. Erek Smith lives in Alabama. He blogs at ereksmith.blogspot.com. He has been published in The Poetry Warrior, The Thin Edge Of Staring, Gloom Cupboard, Zygote In My Coffee, and Heroin Love Songs with upcoming poems in Children, Churches, And Daddies, Luciole Press, and Lines Written W/ A Razor. |
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