My Other Friend Steve


Ended drug addicted. Arched a man
on a dark sidewalk with a finger
like a gun in the back yet had to
punch him down for his money.

Taunted a blackmailed lover held
a gun that banged and folded
Steve on a dirt alley.
Years before, Steve heard complaints

about Dad, said Hey, Zen fable:

A man alone, thigh deep halfway
across a fast river, stops, legs shaking,
and a monk calls from the far bank:
Tired of carrying your father?

Steve’s dad: Beat his son routinely.




George Shelton




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