formatting error, last on poem “Bottom Line”

Bottom Lines

There’s a free bird out nights, musically as alive.
Night time, I spend alone, on drives;   old walnut
crushes crest the dash edge.   I thrive the old hive
a butt to my tires, babies no man touched or putt,
as blusters shade singers;   it’s spring, and I drive.
Blusters blow smoke out.   Walnuts surf dash butt
rim and out smoke more;   and I attempt to shrive;

in, goes numerous beats;   in, goes plum sensual elixir.
out the window, mind on you;   out the window, dope.
in, goes elixir air;   in, goes fixer air;   in, goes airy dope.

Bottom line, natural, wild bird on eggs, loses keys.


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