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Forget
the thief in the alley
behind the building
waiting for the lights
to go out...
his lights went out a long time ago,
or, maybe yesterday...
no job, his family gone,
no reason to be a man...
anymore...
the lights go out,
he steps from the shadows
with a handful of pipe,
smashing the skull of
unidentified footsteps...
takes the money bag and runs...
to the rush and the deadness
that lets him forget!
poem
by
Eric Cockrell
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