Sympathy for the Devil
Watching the white ash float and cover stealing footprints and filling potholes tiger traps for passing tires Rishika lay eyes up reinacting a play; shes now an angel flapping her wings basking in the brief glint of star (I say) “where’s your halo girl?” the play stops mid-flight as she tosses her grin at my feet (she say) “I lost it long ago, but I got this dime sack and a fifth of Jack… goin’ find heaven tonight.”
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