A Dent Is Just A Dent

Cuff-linked anomalies popping up and out
from 6 feet below the city surface
with a hunger for
Burnt out back alley hookers
Who suck on unlit cigarettes

and a penchant for preaching perfection
at crooked podiums
Playing hardball with us rickety dashboards

Raising clenched fists
and magnifying elevated decibels
only to come up short
of a swept aside blanket.

Their money trucks keep patrolling
And armories charge unfazed
We chuck pebbles
Let’s kid ourselves
He flinched!

But a dent is still just a dent
and we’ll die as an army of almosts and average faces.

A Dent Is Just A Dent

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© Hazim Haemoglobin 2012

Poems


A Dent Is Just A Dent


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