its where I'm destined to go
beneath the fallen branches
and clogged gutters
Like falling into a hole and having the ladder pulled,
where straw men line the streets and alleys
there are plenty of places to sit on
I don't need absolute Freedom
but I will take a stipple of freedoms.
I don't need fancy things because I know
who profits from fancy things.
I know what total Freedom brings, out in a man,
turning him into a bottle rocket.
The fire is warm but soon he will combust and climb then clamor just far enough
to see all the pretty lights,
then explode into my little finger fragments of freedoms to be carried with the wind
and vanish in the night.
Skid row one long track where once a match was lit.
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