I have no interest in poetry anymore, said the somber poet.
My woman has left me, I can no longer create.
I can't flipping burgers any longer, said the boy in the
yellow smock. My best girl ran off with my best pal.
I ain't got no more mojo, said the gritty blues singer.
That damn she-devil of a woman, took it when she left.
With my car.
And my dog.
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