Poetry

The Kid Is Wordy

The whistle of a gun
A pistol in a bun – call that a hot dog
I don’t go for jogs, I think that’s gay
Ebonics class – three is trey
Don’t ask me why, that’s how language developed
Time to get up. And go to work…yet again
A co-worker can become a friend
It’s possible. Like the existence of God
Don’t you find it odd that….

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