Most of my poems you don't see.
They are on draft.
Ready to be drunk.
Ready for the stink of the skunk.
Ready for the ghost in the trunk.
You don't read my poems.
They are caught in the draft.
The chill of the kill if not the thrill.
I do not easily take the pill.
What has it been?
I do myself in.
That's the joke.
Choke on that.
Rich Quatrone June 25 2012
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