WASH THIS LAND WITH
A WINDEX CLOTH
Or, anyway, something to remove the
muck and glare. There has to be, a matter
made. Purposes are never unfulfilled -
as much as a turkey, post-Thanksgiving,
would never be able to say. In my mind,
oh again, I'm so tired of the dirt and grime
I see. All those Sunday-steadfast people
heading home. I look out along the
scorching sea, and all I get are the
aromas of death and destruction.
Wash this land with a
Windex cloth.
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