Tonight's Poet Corner: Get Out Of Here, Kid
Get Out Of Here, Kid
by Belinda Roddie
Skullman's out looking for you,
boy. He's dressed in black and pissed
as Hell. He's carrying two Colts as
slick as your hips, and he's ready to
stud your waistline with steel. You better
think about rushing your ass down
to the border, hide yourself in a
bag of grain and get shipped to
Mexico. You'll be fed like the cattle
on a small, remote farm, and when
you're old enough, you'll head back
with your belt drooping and your
eyes blazing under a cowboy hat, so
you can jam a shotgun barrel up Skullman's
bony nostril and fire three times in a row
just to make sure he's dead.
by Belinda Roddie
Skullman's out looking for you,
boy. He's dressed in black and pissed
as Hell. He's carrying two Colts as
slick as your hips, and he's ready to
stud your waistline with steel. You better
think about rushing your ass down
to the border, hide yourself in a
bag of grain and get shipped to
Mexico. You'll be fed like the cattle
on a small, remote farm, and when
you're old enough, you'll head back
with your belt drooping and your
eyes blazing under a cowboy hat, so
you can jam a shotgun barrel up Skullman's
bony nostril and fire three times in a row
just to make sure he's dead.
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