negotiations

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 25, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 25, 2011

A A A

A A A


Down the street

from me

stood a foster home, a

"halfway house for

delinquents"

my father would say.


and he was right.


these boys could

pick locks with

bobby pins

roll their own

cigarettes

hotwire cars.


one day

while walking home

from school

a boy

who was

considerably older

than I

noticed me

at an inter-

section.


we walked home

together.


he told me how

him

and his buddies

got the apple

of every

Edgehill boys eye

to start

whoring.


that she would

do things

I never

heard of at the

time


all for the

amount of money


I

earned mowing neighbors

lawns.


selling one on

he told me

"think about it".

 

I shuffled up my

driveway,

greeted by my father

's

back hand

and an

"i told you never".


I've come to learn

this is what

America

produces.


survivors.


these boys will

never cry

over

women.

they will not

kill themselves

over

taxes.


they will do

exactly

what they were

created

to do.


Breed

and

carry on.


Just ask the girl

next door.


© Copyright 2017 Ed Percy. All rights reserved.

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