Victim
I need a walking stick.
Really a sky-hook would
be more apropos.
Can’t move so good.
Mobility, whacked.
Last night; the big one.
The party goer
I came as left a crawling
robot with flapping arms.
Got zapped
by the electro-paralytic
gun magically transformed to
resemble a capsule ingested
after midnight for something the
hip ones called “kicks” wasted
my brains with electrical fire:
Leaving for this morning
just a half- witted
hunk o meat
trying to figure
a way to escape the
polio ward.
* * *
Michael-Sean Lazarchuk
44
Page(s) 44
magazine list
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