in the neighborhood who figured
out how to
put a nail on the end of
a stick
and then went
hunting for frogs or fish
in the creek.
he was usually a strange
kid, with crazy parents,
in a house your mother never
let you visit.
you always wondered what
happened to them,
those kids with the nails
on the end of a stick,
looking to stab something.
you're not surprised when you see
them in the metro section
of the paper, a picture of
them in handcuffs, smiling.
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