that god is a tick
eating your money and heart
blood drips on marble
not fucking around
lap up the change you wanted
or head to the back
scales, talons of satan
from the shade to save your soul
a stone at him cast
deep seeded within feet
we run about the blue filtered skies
cracking open our friends
electricity burned forests
it used to eradicate food stocks
now it erases my work
rubber meets road
graphite, pulp, white ink, friction
rubber meets my poems
A. M. Langston 
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