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Leadaches | Indie Flash Fiction

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Bukowski style poetry


When we lose control of our vices we can be prone to lose                                                      those deer to us.

Six deer cross my path, on a dark country lane,

completely ignorant of the 300 horse power

held in check by my left foot.

Numbed by two quarts of Crown Royal,

but my five toes still manage to prevent

a vehicular venison splash.

Twelve wide brown eyes stare frozen at me

as rubber treads scream and grip concrete…..

like fingernails on an asphalt blackboard,

but the ass at fault was mine.

Thankfully I missed them.

Then they scattered like buckshot from a

weapon unwittingly discharged.

I was a god visiting their fragile world

in a chariot of steel.

Their execution was pardoned by fate,

in a twisted version of Robert Frost

pausing in snowy woods.

My shaky hands grip the steering wheel tighter

grateful for the handful of brain cells

left un-inebriated by my daily addiction.

I drive on through swirls of white,

thumping over two dead skunks and a dead possum,

three unfortunate creatures who had met other gods

less adept at commas while trampling nature

into asphalt pudding.

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Art-Whimsically Yours Studio

MFB III Productions

© -1998- All rights reserved,


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