4/25, poem, my last life…

5-7-5-77-777 8 9

A wallet and a

Pocket watch. Too easy! “More

Whiskey-now!” Fist on

Table-mine on his necklace,

I’ll take his horse too. “Puny,”

Ha! I was not even there.

His shoes? A piece of tackle.

Tavern full of big targets,

Gold coins in my sweaty leaping hand.