YOUR BEING LIED TO TOO,
TWO SNAKECHARMERS
See the slime on the snowman : he's buried
his eyes, just like his carrot. The coal seam
still hurts from where they ripped it dry.
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Faces on a moving curtain - like the passing
frenzy I visit. Girls in winter hats, still grinning.
Guys in suits, sucking on their phones as the
deals go down. I'm always sad and happy both.
-
So, here I am. Mr Ledger-Man listeNing to me,
sitting back in that foul brown booth : your
Guiness mouth betrays your Budweiser mind.
-
Two plus two makes four, wherever that plain
arithmetic is still in play. Catholic parodies abound:
one always equals three. No wonder nothing fits.
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No wonder nothing fits.
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