Dick Hickock


The sound of Dick’s voice—

It was like the injection
Of some potent narcotic
Invading my veins

It produced a delirious—
Colliding sensation, fast
And furious, lotsa tension
And then some relief

Dick changed the plates—
Cashed some bad checks,
Fleeced some old friends,
Got us a couple of hundred

But Dick and I were—
Running a race without
A finish line, broke again
On the way to Las Vegas


Dick had plans to finally—

Ditch me, he was totally
Sick of me, my nagging
Whispering voice & shit

Suspicious, spiteful—
Self-righteous, with my
Weeping womanly eyes
Like a wife he had to ditch

My Indian-Irish superstition—
My aches and pains, my bad
News paranoia all the time
About what we’d done there

It was goodbye, Perry—
No more lies about fortunes
Get rich quick schemes and
All that phony con-man shit

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