August 23, 2011

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Transported

Over wrought

Built square

Keeping in, keeping out

Shaded

Medicated

Well read

Wet

Stone

And a new season

Of chutes and ladders

Big butts and bridges

Cold feet and smiles.

The Fork in the road

Fork the man

Fork the condiments.

Are we just rats

With no escape

Conned into luxury

Dreaming of beauty

Dreaming of what might be

Or just looking, playing, spinning silly yarns?

 

 

 

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