Junk (an acrostic poem)

Just one more time and maybe I’ll get lucky

Uncle Bart had brought him to the sports card shop

Now he pondered which pack held the prize

Knowing full well that all he was probably getting was…


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Pursuit (an acrostic poem) part 5

Pelting rain pounded on Mike’s fedora as he waited

Under a red umbrella, his prey walked out of the shop

Running across the street, Mike tried to get close

Slipping in a puddle, he fell hard to the pavement

Under his breath, he swore as he pushed himself back up

It seemed that the red umbrella had disappeared

The next swears were definitely out loud


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