Poem: Juke Joint

By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan

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juke into the end zone
juke the music out of boxes
I find it hard to believe the government
toppled over without a little help,
usually from other governments,
your frenemies are most helpful that way
(I learned that one from the idiot box)
frenemies – that juke the cards right out
of your hand

what would the Torah say?
Dear Abby?
the street urchin with misery
for a face?

that jive talkin’ turkey keeps throwing his arms out
like shooting missiles,
everyone wants a war but no one wants
to fight it…

when I see you in the Spring
you will know the winter of my bones,
that is the deal we made

as you juke from the hip

and I crumple up plastics for
the recycle guy to take
away.

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