Pickpocket
Light-Fingered Louie
was at it again
this morning.
Wished he would
have a real job,
and not be,
a pickpocket
type of person.
Sometimes he leaves
me alone he goes
shoplifting instead.
Here he comes again
wished I could tell
him to get his,
hand out of my
pocket, my master
whoever they may
be today does
not like it
one bit.
(4-11-07)
poem by Jim Foulk
Added by Poetry Lover
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