poem #3

The Fall of Jesse James
 
THE FALL OF JESSE JAMES
 
I bought a mirror for twenty bucks
that’s smaller than a Cadillac
but bigger than a Buick.
 
My calico toppled it, broke it,
and brought me seven years bad luck.
 
In the slivers on the ground,
I thought I saw a gunslinger on a chair,
unaware that his buddy had a gun to his neck.
 
I wanted to say, “Hey, Jesse, look quick.”
But I tripped and cut my hand.
 
Damn the cat.
 
– Evelyn B. Hirschworth
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