Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Crime Scene

So you're from Kanata,
I could tell by your shirt,
North forty-five and west seventy-five,
Does that mean you're a jerk?

Don't mean you can get a breakfast sandwich,
Heated three times over,
Pocket the Naked juice when no one sees,
Then say sorry to the Starbucks worker.

Like who get's Starbucks breakfast sandwiches?
Okay, I did one time,
But it was free and I learned my lesson,
Looking back, I'd written lack-luster rhymes.

I shouldn't speak,
In fact, I rarely do,
Like now as I watch the bobbing bottle,
Poking out the overalls of that dude.

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