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The administrator announces his new
initiative;
the sheep graze half asleep.
Bush orders another round for the house;
the drug of war intoxicates Americans.
My old house cries in pain as
the jack operator adjusts its spine.
The old crow wears Columbo’s rumpled coat,
his young partner, a shiny black sheath.
My Yankee in-laws feast on
my Southern fried family.
The vultures swarm
for yard sale road kill.
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