The Story That Doesn't Tell A Story-- Part II

Nary a narrow

passage passes

the flashing hazards


or flaccid,

or oragami plastered,

or sort of sunami

style disasters

could capture

haphazard luster

I so delicately lather

what is the matter?

have I not got the swagger?

Giving all that the hunter can gather--

Is pretty much the crutch of what I'm after

afterall when waterfalls fall

and daughters gain from a hefty shopping haul

and laughter wrinkles eyes

showing the face of death and demise

in the wise cracking, smoke filled hacking

Life comes calling -- cackling

like static upside the face smacking

putting thoughts in place-- not slacking

considering a soul displaced

in time and in space

without the body you know

to intimately trace.

The End

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