Coldcase Poem by John W. McEwers

Coldcase



Trails gone
and the tracker
the old man in the corner of the bar
stops sniffing to take a sip of beer
belly so big his pants explode
into stars and shine like headlights on a car
horn blows and he's back
the tracker sets to the scent
of a woman

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John W. McEwers

John W. McEwers

Nova Scotia, Halifax
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