What a tripp

The cigarette burned
My finger tips
and dropp'd like a log
to the rug below
My eyes took a tripp
To dig the chick
Crouched like a cat
At the next window
My ears assembled music
Out of swarming streets
but my mind rebelled
At the idiots laughter
The rising frightful idiot laughter
cheering an army of
vacuum cleaners

poem by Timothy Harrington II
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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