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Greg McVerry

Risky Beds A #clmooc #poetryport poem

I have slept in risky places
not just beds filled
   with faces and people
I can not, don't want,
    or should not
but just strange
platforms of peace
Stuck in the far car
on the BART
spilling from the Warfield
Dawn of new millenia
our car laughing behind
the gates of a closed garage
Shacks on the shores of Negril
when their were still shacks on the
A double decker red bus pulling
through London
after a night at a Reggae club,
where sent of smoke ruined in tucks
of tobacco
Tube closed
only to find my way to some
big House on Buckingham
where I wrestled with the urge to vomit
all over a meticulous lawn
while I was supposed to be
impressed by some old lady walking
     to a    horse drawn      carriage
oozing out, our carriage, a hot car
in dawning of a summer's sun
tucking a head under a wheel in search for
shade in the Denny's parking lot
of I don't have a clue, America
while folks stepped over us in their Sundays
to a golden gift of a closet
full of trundles when management
of the Philadelphia, across from the Garden
were scraping up those in
search of floor space
I have slept in beautiful places as
     is a different


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