Jenkins Street Poetry Project
A collection of original poems by Don Stinson
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Somewhere Between Pawhuska and Ponca City
Up all night, once again, morning gray
As all Hell, as my mind, as this day.
Stopped the pills, like I said—stopped them cold.
But I’m fine, I’m OK, I’m just old.
Go away. Leave me be. I’m no fun.
All I want, anymore? To be done.
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