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2010-03-18 - 11:25 p.m.

little turtle looses shell
instincitvely climbs a rock
to warm its blood

and little legs soon kick
in the beak of a flying thing
and shit falls to the earth
before too long

somos trite
in the me gusta/no me gusta world
where instead words like eschatology
ontology and bingo continue
to spook us.

I never understood the extent
to which the song
"A man needs a Maid"
by Neil Young
applied to me until
my baby up and left me

So now, the soap sits in a dish
of its own fragrant shit
and mold takes over the bathroom

but because I never owned nothin'
I'm not worried

The renters shall inherit the earth
so why mow? Why try? Why bathe?

 

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