You will never hear the late-night
conversations in motel rooms,
or guitars picked and strummed
without the stage lights
and never learn to listen
before asking questions
for the folks in town—
on assignment in the cold and snow
to get some news in God knows where
to sandwich between silly ads
and the latest mass murder.
The camera hums—
and all you want to hear
are poems about guns.
for Al Jazeera
drycrikjournal 
John… Perfect, just perfect.
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