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where's your stuff

my stuff got stolen once
from the laundramat
under the counter
all clean dryed and folded
leaning stuffed
in a big pillow case
where i thought
nobody would see it

when i got back from happy hour
i was sad
not hardly drunk
almost homeless
and with out a stitch of clothes
in the world
cept what i was wearing

it was a time of life when
i had much less to keep up with


Jim Tucker, Brigetta and Uncle Charlie in the meditation room of 616 Ruxton Avenue, above the Cog Rail Depot - Manitou Springs, Colorado


Category: Poetry