My Walk's Slow -Huitain
My walk’s slow, but I’m in no rush my friend.
Day will finish itself, night comes so what?
I’ll stop by some ‘bo’s campfire at light’s end,
be with like men, share some humor or smut.
I’ll spend night with vacant space in my gut.
Rail walk’s no soft piece of cake but light’s dawn
may bring train and ride beneath car’s frame strut,
finding me next day at place of Saint John.
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