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“Betting Slips” by Michael Pollentine





Didn’t go to his funeral.

Anxiety.

Truthfully.

Regretfully.

I liked him.

Counted out papers

And betting slips

Whilst the dog

Lay black and Sunday lazy.

Thin

Until he quit smoking.

When I returned

From time away

Was glad to see me around

Chatted a good chat.

Then one day he sat in a chair

Mumbled nonsense

And bled in his brain.

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