Tonight's Poet Corner: Damn It, Shane

Damn It, Shane
by Belinda Roddie

You said you were going to
buy a carton of eggs from the store,
and then I found you an hour later,
smoking a flute on the corner of Oak,
trying to make cobras dance on the part
of the street that the road workers
still hadn't finished re-tarring. You had
one job,
Shane. One fucking job.

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