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I say for sure
Money got a raw deal
at the Dime Store
All she wanted
was pickles
Payment accepted
only in nickels
She walked softly
as the sky carried
a big stick
Going home meant
returning to
the big
[pretzel]
Claudia Money
was not broken
but her words
were mostly
unspoken
She slathered him
with yesterday's
cream cheese
She knew how to please
She knew how to plead
to the Gods
above and below
and
in between
"He's gotta go"
"His days are numbered"
"He denies me growth"
"My nights un-slumbered"
Philadelphia cream cheese
filled his mouth
with cheap thrills
then she filled his
nostrils
Breath became sparse
but his penis was hard
as she dealt him
Death's card
!!!
In life and strife,
all we have
are devices
and her pickles
were all slices
creating
the not-so-cheap thrill:
every square inch
of his body
was inlaid
with dill
Police report #428571
was short and tart:
This was not murder,
she created art
***
© Paul Oliverio ©
Instead of
a jail cell,
Claudia Money
was given
performance space
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