Said The Saints Softly

So late in the game,/ I’m through sawing off time chunks/to pay,debts racked up/by tools and conveyors./Exit now this building,/cross fields of broken marbles,/leads me not toward ecstasy /toward what’s revered and common/My foot in the door,/please overlook my intrusion;/you do the talking./You leave your followers,/with their complexions,/ distinct from each other,/to count the dues already paid you,/ravenous for dues unpaid./They expect your rebellion,/to stretch over streets and corners/ready tor raid your provision./But I loved the time on your circuit,/you’d fill my empty pockets/enough to buy my suppers,/on the black mask of cool water./I am sure St. Anne will deal her cards,/face down, fast as meteors,/to spell out her childhood/her life’s best bet./Said Anne softly: CRIME PAYS.

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