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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2355777

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Mojo Risin

I got this itch ...
ain’t nowhere
to scratch
A store bought woman
took
all my cash
My mojo’s risin ...
so I
got to go
The night train whistlin

and calls
through the snow
That feelin stays with me ...
freight car
dark and cold
With every new
waypoint
— my scratchin untold


(Listening To Robert Johnson: March, 2026)
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