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A poem by Nicholas Laughlin
The Strange Years of My
What starts in the
will end in my memoirs.
As many regrets as friends.
As many friends as second thoughts
as bad mistakes.
I was born too young. I came the wrongside way.
I have had many third thoughts, fourth guesses,
five parts gin.
My gasoline days.
— I hate to make a mess
but I do what I have to do.
I was there when they raised the flag.
My name was on the list, Pierrot. I never took the oath.
I did my time.
I did your time.
I wear the same tattoo.
— But who do I fool.
The accent gives me away.
Hence the funny walk, hence the wince.
more poems by Nicholas Laughlin