Dominic Riccitello
Jul 4, 2014

a loyal hand, but no job

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somewhere in peru the clouds cover our view forever and always you he offered a hundred and fifty grand, but i gave him the hand— just us two and a romp through the swamp we never knew the word “stop” always on a single foot, through the woods we bask an endless gaze, eye to eye with a game of who could catch the spy we lie, roll and examine the holes how i could never fly the way you expressed and used the word “my” i could die, is anyone in there alive? a robot with the sex drive of an adolescent i bask, but alone — i promise i’m not prone it’s alright — my bones are intact i know and i always knew a sight to see, the luxury of the unknown a few have asked, but i sip my flask you know i’d take an ax to the hand to the head and end up dead before the day i’d ever lift your mask