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Since this poem is not by me I will post it here. This is one of my favorite poems but be forewarned that is is a sad one. It is be a poet of the name of red hawk. Hope you like

The brassy blonde sitting in the last row, last seat
with the long bleached curly hair and the makeup
lived all her life in trailer parks, trailer trash
is what we called people who lived in those parks
when i was a boy. And that blonde had a daughter
who one night didnt come home so she

drove all over town, and then the next town and
then 2 towns over before she called the cops
who found her and brought her home.
She hugged and held her, did everything
a mother knows to do for a troubled child
and then sent her to bed to get some sleep
while she went out to empty the trash
and standing out there, trash bag in hand

she heard the shot.
At first she thought it was a firecracker, then
A car backfiring on the highway and then
because she was a mother she knew and she
ran into the trailer already knowing
the shot killed both of them only
she was left to stand there and
deal with it.

Now she is in my class and she could be the one
standing up here teaching you what it is like
to live on this Earth and what you will need
to make it; she
could be the one but it is me who has the Ph.D;
i am not the one who
had to clean up the back bedroom,
jack the trailer up,
move to the next park.


Jo Weil:  face part
The Patron Saint of Switchblade Fights
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