Fried Chicken Lingo

by Bill White

COLD circle staring up
white heat of summer sky
receptive earth
torn mud fills fingerprints
egotistical identity lost

take that shit back
Kerouac
I can't leave just yet

go see the south bound
daddy mo-fo
fried chicken lingo.
and fuck Paris!
New York City
keeps us alive
here.

I'm a Chinatown
vagabond
looking for a way
out.

sizzle, crack, hiss, and
spit
my feet slap
concrete
and the vibrations
move upward
through corroded
metal and funky
brick
and my
tailor made
voice is
fashion you
can't fake.

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