a troped poem

by October 6, 2012 0 comments

I opened up the door to the cab
and paid God to take me where she stood folding
He said here’s the station
she walked through the now chanting my my my
my hands were on the door but her heart was a card
the singer won uptown eyes the train bailed out
and night threw me down
I refused to have it handed to me
maybe I was lazy but the phone was ringing
and I said buddy fix that out
he had his hands at her heart wild crazy like some Zapatista
He was in my deal and I was ringing the bell
but no one came nobody to job me without a chorus
the fingers warming over the sun
we got back into the cab singing
so we took the first left although she started hiccupping
but I tried to ki-
ss her anyway
she took just one
what was that for I said
and that was that
but just for luck she laughed
she said gimme a dime I gotta make a call

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