Poetry Report: Victim of Circumstance
“A crisp dollar bill
sits in the middle of his back
like a new store tag”
No victim of circumstance gets treated better than a plane crash victim.
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If Only You Had Been in a Plane Crash
The smell is as if
every drunk in the city
pissed on him.
There's a man here
face-down, collapsed, crying.
His whole body is red,
swollen, ready to pop.
A crisp dollar bill
sits in the middle of his back
like a new store tag,
as if someone forgot him
before they could return him.
I suddenly wish
that he had fallen here
from that plane crash
in San Francisco.
Then someone would
touch him,
give him a blanket,
ask him nice questions
which include that beautiful word
from outer space:
itinerary.
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