Desert Men Lift Cigarettes To Cut the Dust And Light The
To Hold Vultures At Safe Distances

A Poem by Monica Storss

i need to talk to my medical
maryjane provider about an artistic grant
for my sex-positive ranting in iambic pentameter.

you know the gov't ain't gonna fund this shit
because they already gave me a permit to carry concealed weapons.

we gonna find the true path through the falseness thrown up by the fog machine
and the shit gonna be smoove

i ain't got no patience for potholes
& faux Marxists who drive ford mustang convertibles

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