Bud Petal blogs here, and is also on facebook, twitter, vimeo, and instagram.


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The Tale of the Gangster and the Towel-like Blanket

I was born afoot a mountain
Afoot a mountain is where I was born
A hill of poppies overlooked my home
Flanked by a decaying shed

I was asleep and in clean diapers
In clean diapers I was asleep
Covered head-to-toe
By a blanket made in Tel-Aviv

Outside and near my window
Near my window in the light of noon
There was a bomb placed beneath the car
Of the head of a local gang

His car did move backwards
Backwards his car did move
But since the bomb was placed at the front
My bedside window exploded and not his car

Now with his life the gangster did escape
And the bomb’s nail-filled shockwave
All but destroyed the front of our building
And my beloved blanket

I owe my life to that towel-like blanket
Which sheltered me from the shards of glass
And I still keep that silly little blanket
Though now I don’t know where it is

As for that lucky gangster
His nemesis caught him unaware
Shot from beneath a sofa
Dead from a fatal wound to the ass

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