| of the law
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| When the long vein of the law bites his right eye at you
|
| from behind his stingy brimed black hat of all facts
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| And yours can only choke
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| filing blanks all over the floor in front of you
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| until your mouth half lights
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| and all your body water rushes to the soft fillets of your back
|
| Before you can speak,
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| he touches a very serious finger to the neck of your hand
|
| and your skin breaks out in
|
| all spreading from a sizable city some three hundred miles east of Dallas, Texas
|
| Dallas appearing just below the cheap lamp of throat shakra
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| the thirty five cent running the length of your torso
|
| and disappearing over the soft cost of your hip
|
| Some moments later,
|
| your west central Texas skin begins to purple,
|
| and suddenly he’s feeling for thorns on the stems of your eyes
|
| You jerk them back to the twice focus shot
|
| of your glasses blur black rim and hiss
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| and fiddle in your pockets for a first stuffed animal or some obscene note
|
| You have a good idea of what’s coming
|
| You reach for your mouth to cut words
|
| But
|
| He speaks:
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| Son, you seize the grass and sun tight in the film beneath your face
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| and wrong between half writ books on outcoals and medium no medium no
|
| He shows you a feather that he grew in his femur
|
| You reach for your mouth to cut words
|
| But all you can say is
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| Everyday Hard (x4)
|
| And so he points to a hole now spreading carefully on your sunken chest gently
|
| shakes his clear blue head and teaches you the word Vacation before
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| dissappearing into the open mouth of his face fixed hat of all fact
|
| And then it all goes black
|
| A R (x2)
|
| When you come to,
|
| something in your throat feels more forgiven,
|
| and the sunrise seems to have put back the knife it sometimes pulls on you
|
| Hopefully, next time you see one another,
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| He’ll be all «What's up?» |
| with his hat off, one hand full of coconut and small
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| umbrella
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| A young George Washington lounging there beside him,
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| sucking centers from one hundred watt bulbs with a two dollar bill,
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| scoping his navel full of sweat as it steeps in the sun |