Thursday, April 7, 2011


2 highwirists

reach mid-point,

expecting the other

2 jump as they

silently glare in2

each other’s eyes,

waiting for midnite’s

stroke: the moment

of political risk.

Suddenly an odor

envelops them.

Neither can stand it;

screaming: “You,

You shitb@g! You!”

Everyone holds

their last breath;

those below brace

themselves for a

shitty splatter,

wishing they’d

come bareass.


(07 APR 11, Santa Clara CA)v3

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