We made our way out to the west side. Rough part of town, but we were on a mission. To find Ozark’s Pawn. Heard about a Gibson they had. Wanted to see it for myself. Wanted to see if it was real or fake. Finally found the joint – couple people hanging outside – started to feel like this just might not be right. But it was the joint we were looking for, just walked in right through the door. The Gibson was a fake, plane to see, it was in broad daylight, didn’t take much from me. But my love found a ring so shiny and loved. She knew we were sent here from above. So she snatched it up in a hurry and we left in a scurry. This is a poem about that afternoon at Ozark’s Pawn Shop. Enjoy.
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