Morning slow got Nowhere to go

Slick my machiato

Slow train.coming

To Georgia on my mind

If I won’t have an original thought I’ll have


That’s fine


And love

Policeman walking

And five feet behind


A man in a blue cap

Surveillance poetry

The wasted hollow spaces

That’s where I like to go

A guy just passed

I knew he could tell I was

About to

write him in

He was also a policeman not that that is important

And now

A stuffed pigeon sidled up to


He could have been sigmund Freud

But. Probably wasn’t

About sidsledge

I am the heart of the scientist and the mind of an artist
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