Debt

The gift of gunpowder
Perhaps, a lucky hitchhiker
Or not, only you would know
As I can only rate flesh

But also, how could we not
Know your hamburger hands
A snail’s ability, trails
Somber, in fast forward

Five steps a-head
With enough to slip on
Sweating: “Thank you, nurse” 
When did our towels get so thin?

Bullet number four 
Extradited, a scream
Stomping on a snake’s tongue
Echoes from the collection pan

One venom left throbbing
A fetus of the grim reaper 
Or maybe of revelation
If you plead insanity

And the mothers too
Would end up roommates
Tourism would decrease
…But outrage can’t outlast

Novocaine and spring games
Beer and sports at the starting line
And seasoned, I’ll bite my tongue
From “congratulations doctor”