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Jimmy and The Man

Jimmy and The Man

Foggy and hazy was that dark city night.
Jimmy’s Eldorado had blown a headlight.
With a trunk filled with drugs for drops to be made,
and many pimp-slaps to be given as pay.

The addicts were pacing and sweating with dread.
“No fix tonight!” was repeating in their head.
Faces were melting beyond that of a frown.
Faith was kept though; Jimmy wouldn’t let them down.

Last light of the Eldo could shine now no more.
Oh what to do! How to deliver the score!
With time running out Jimmy screamed out of spite,
“Now who will guide my Eldorado tonight!”

When out of the mist a huge flame did arise.
It was ‘The Man’ with squinty red, blood-shot eyes.
Puffing a bowl and never missing a beat.
Jimmy knelt down crying and fell at his feet.

He explained to ‘The Man’ with humble and fright,
“The glow from your bowl illuminates so bright!
A beacon you are in this deadest of night.
Won’t you please guide my Eldorado tonight?”

The hood of the Eldorado ‘The Man’ now did ride
with pounds of Neville’s Haze, and Chemdawg, in bags by his side.
The vacuumus sound as each pound bag was fried
would kill any man who dare even try.

With a smoke trail disappearing, I could still hear ‘The Man’ say,
“No joint is too small and to all a kind day!”

(I wrote this piece to shed more LIGHT on the suffering

addicted, I added a twist of humor to make the topic

more palatable for the reader.   Addicts need Doctors and

therapy; not Law Enforcement and jail).

Randall Paul Prazuch
Copyright ©2010

Read more poetry from Randall at www.randallprazuch.com or

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