look-
like fugitive buckshot
like a silent, stutterin reel
like a mad black mass
hollerin down greene street
careens into a pt cruiser
dares the bus to bruise her
without whinny or wain
reins free of arms
flanked by rubber & tar
rear-jerk bone-narrow sidewalk
turned blood gravel, crowd gathers
church revival blather
screams like tambourines
salt & pepper senior
open mouth drinkin ether
operator say the horse
probably from hansberry
(i remember a mare i rode in the jungle
& the shange girl with blonde braids
straddlin a colt45 of moonshine down morris)
look,
like fugitive buckshot
like a silent, stutterin reel
like a mad black mass,
i wanted to lasso her waist
& ride
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