Wednesday, June 16, 2021

February poem

 How nice to be James Bond

Unafraid of heights as he scurries

Up a conveyor belt to fight a violent enemy,

an amorphous anonymous bad guy

Atop a construction crane.

Making a daring jump,

throwing a punch.

How easy, how clear.

Deal with your old mom’s

Craziness, dementia,

A pathetic angry stupid bitch you can no longer

Stand.

Welcome to that, Mr. Bond. 

Good luck with it. 

Kick that pistol out of the

other guy's hand.



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