Tuesday, November 24, 2015

7494. AIN'T BLUFFIN'

AIN'T BLUFFIN'
Gonna' go to that hill, and get me a gun,
gonna' climb to that height, and look down,
seek a thrill, mark a million man march of the 
heart. I can speechify to my heart's content. 
Live high. Live low. Get straight. Get bent.
-
Now, in silence instead, that old crowd shall
disperse. It's Thanksgiving again  -  no reason,
just is. I remember the people I've met and loved.
Always Thanksgiving, with Winter gloves.

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