The Heist
by Joanna M.
Weston
see here I’m
a trigger-happy bum-boy
a hooting shooting apple-john
not to be confused with your own
loggerheaded pig-brain self
this gat of mine doesn’t shoot steam
fire-bombs or dandy-seeds
it’ll send guaranteed platinum
bullets
through skin bone lung
heart
it’ll leave not a dank slubbering
breath
in your weedy milk-livered trunk
to end your folly-fallen fly-bitten
scrap of haggard crook-pated humanity
so hand over the monkeys in your pocket
all bread bacon clams
sawbucks
any C-notes to ease my itchy finger
frogskins are good but best
a rock |
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