Writing
New Jersey Me
Rich Ferguson
Jimmy and I drifted through the circus crowd on a magic carpet combo of weed, brews, Jimmy’s mom’s codeine cough medicine, and the downers I’d swiped from my mom’s medicine cabinet. All around us laughter and merry-g...
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Poem
She
Rich Ferguson
She
She is an amnesiac moon,
a lunatic laundromat
robbing me of my quarters.
She has
tombstone tarot cards;
ties my pulse
into a hangman’s knot.
She is a forever leaving ship;
my arms ache
from perpetually...
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