THE OLYMPICS OF
MYOPIC DREAD
I want to wander, plainly blatant
and just rip out the heart of the
world. The horsey Queen herself
has been dead over well a week
now, and Pujols and Judge vie
for something absurd. I would
care if I cared but I don't. The
magic in all those old semaphores
is gone, and high school and
college now too seem like a
film-strip in some geeky,
old bio-lab setting.
-
How'd it ever get like this?
Or I am just plain crazy, the
losing end of a ghetto stick,
the fiery torch in some new
Olympics of Myopic Dread?
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