Open Letter to Lucas Jackson
You sad sack of new meat, you.
You beheader of parking meters, you.
You malicious destroyer of municipal property.
You unrecognizable pup.
You failure as a communicator, you,
back-sasser, box-dweller,
rabbit blood, hog gut.
You tireless devourer of eggs, you.
You kicker of bucks, you.
You chain-buster, gun-fetcher,
natural-born world-shaker.
You back roads swamp-runner.
You good ol’ boy.
You cool, cool
big beautiful handful
of nothing, you.
Laugh it up, kid.
May your mind never
be right.
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