stephenville blues

there is a layer
of pure dysfunction
permeating every
aspect of this day
a disconnect between
common and sense
leaving a parade of
jackasses baying at
the midday moon

chalkdust soliloquies
where angels cavort
drunkenly in silence
as i try on different
funeral shrouds
dancing awkwardly on
the cold asphalt running
through this ghost town
waiting for an errant
wagon to run me down

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