Crinkling to the door
one banana Moon Pie heavier
I ask what’s in her pocket
but quietly
and she hands it back
“You don’t understand.”
“I’d like to”
but I’m talking to her back
I gatekeep the toilet key
and the poison food
which we charge EBT for
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I let the addict free because she sang a song about a swing set
full of suckers and children laughing
from where set sat on the Red Bull display.
When she begged for rehab
the seven foot, khaki pig called her a danger,
and tried to cuff her even as she cried.
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