Jimmy Swagg
found Familiar Faults in the
O-Town Ground
now Decorated (Defaced)
with his New Identity—
an Arrogant Alias
Forging a Family
Bearing no Blood Relations,
Shooting for the Stage.
Neon Paint, Prideful
to Untrained Eyes’ Noisy Glares
Sits on the Sidewalk waiting
for Downcast Patronage.
i Crouch and Crown
the Would-Be Monarch
with Minerals White
like Coke (not Cola) ,
but my Heavy Head
soon Ceases Consideration—
Bandage-Bound Cut Canvasses can’t
carry Concrete Longing.
he leaves my Mind as
he passes Underfoot.
Clouds Spit at my Selfishness,
Raindrops that might be Rap Lyrics.
they sure as Hell aren’t Tears.
poem by Laura Keenan
Added by Poetry Lover
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