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Friday 15 April 2011

You Mean It’s Not Your Gun?

It is raining on my old black Ford
Cloudy skies; a prayer to the Lord
A damp morning: the rear brakes are stuck
Was the rural lane covered in muck
A borrowed grease tool; my old car will now run
I hear the words: "... you mean it's not your gun."

© Kenneth Campbell
All rights reserved

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