Sunday’s Take


Feverishly baptizing the tip of his thumb with his tongue, over and over again, after the parade

of smooth talking had ended, counting his take, alone in his silent fetish

No smiles or pretensions, his stares glared harder

than a killer’s, right before the crime, easy enough because he was

Before and after the fact, slithering through

the hearts of the world, the Heavy and Done Over

with no remorse

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