Jail Talk

you march to the food

line balancing a tin cup

sniff cut rate cafeteria

smells axed by grease

perdóname you say polite

step on it I answer

crust it I growl mad

as a limbic stoat

I’m innocent you murmur head

buried in a cloud of black

birds hovering shrikelike

yeah me too I laugh

can’t stop fall over

onto the floor funniest thing

I ever heard

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
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