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  • Michael Barnes

Albeit Fewer Jokes, Now

Blazed thru the door

with the old west duster,

They said what's the password?

Tried to lock me out my home.

Pushed my prints to the screen

like the ID on my phone.


I hear around the corner

lurks a sudden death,

Just over my shoulder

I smell it's grisly breath.


Leaning on a busted nerve

Patience plastic, bones made of nerf.

I avoid eye contact with people

Lying that I'm the nature boy,

eyes averted, watching earth.

Old habits fall flat

poor choices die hard,

pork rinds fried in fat

fat sodas fused with lard.

I've put the smokes down

and cut the snakes off,

albeit fewer jokes, now.

They don't believe me,

they laugh and scoff,

"It's a hoax, pal."


To write or not to live my life? A question I have posed to me.

Should I publish works

with snarky words

to punish jerks

I'll never see again?

Petty me,

let it be,

there,

run free my friend.