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Bobby Wiley.

Tom Davidson

The baseball junkie next door stinks like grease.

Looks like he’s about to croak. He ain’t clean.

 

I AM. 

 

Been spick and span for six years.

Back then I said goodbye to hocking junk

& bombing liquor. Goodbye 

 

to stealing azaleas and axles, to stockpiling turpentine,

to stewing in the gutter, to holy beaters,

and the street demon peddlers. 

 

I said goodbye to bad shit happening.

 

That’s when I was transferred to this building,

took one of the only single units left.

From my window I can see robins 

jerking around on the branches.

 

I’d probably kill myself if I was a robin. 

Turning up leaves all day to find 

nothing. Free as a bird they say, but that’s not

any kind of freedom I want to partake in.

 

Freedom is a CLEAN mind, a CLEAN body.

And it takes mental focus.

 

It takes all you’ve got.

© 2017-2019 by Curlew Quarterly. 

Curlew Quarterly - 333 Hudson Street, Suite 303, New York, NY 10013 - 212-804-8655 - Info@CurlewQuarterly.com.

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