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francis 2 - job

francis stumbles
collapses out of the blue at my round table
in a superman t-shirt
ensues cordials, he asks lots
then his keepers arrive, the flies
two now, four hands
francis is dying
according to the chi'ropodist
we're all dying
francis should've died long ago
the state tried to make sure of that
they failed, he's stubborn
and he walked to my table
without the trike
just a stick
had a beer
my conversation included the keepers
Ben no longer a 'witness'
the other young man
on his way to canada and i
suggested he hunt white tails
francis hears
complaints of employers and hours
says to me
'i'll pay you ten pounds an hour'
for what? to wipe you and roll your cigs?
- 'just to talk to me'

22 May 12

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somewhere among my poems is another one about francis. maybe more, so i don't know if this really is 'francis 2' or 'francis 3' but anyway it doesn't matter.
what matters is that i experienced an extraordinarily kind 'snippet' this afternoon and have tried to tell the story somewhat succinctly.
 — hank