by Liam Rector

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by Liam Rector
     Dressed in an old coat I lumber
     Down a street in the East Village, time itself
     Whistling up my ass and looking to punish me
     For all the undone business I have walked away from,
     And I think I might have stayed
     In that last tower by the ocean,
     The one I built with my hands and furnished
     Using funds which came to me at nightfall,in a windfall……
     Just ahead of me, under the telephone wires
     On this long lane of troubles, I notice a gathering
     Of viciously insane criminals I'll have to pass
     Getting to the end of this long block in eternity.
     There's nothing between us. Good
     I look so dangerous in this coat.