Dungaree Jim

Bottle of pop
on the dusty road
leading into the woods
away from town

a past and a blast
shotgun shells
tear a hole
where mind used to be
swallowing the silence whole

a pair of blue jeans, dungarees that’s all
walked in, lived in
faded at the seams
a man’s measure found in denim
filled with shadow and doubt

what you leave behind
is as important as what you take

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