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Traveler Jul 2020
I must confess
I keep pictures of slave-owners
Well more or less
In my wallet
Sea-foam green
Fine frog hairs
Cash I mean
Picture printed on the backs of hemp
Were they heroes or merely wimps

Even my coins are incline
They shine the barbarism of our kind
Every penny,quarter, nickle, dime
Somehow they spend just fine

Smash the statues
Change their names
From your cultural war
I will abstain

Yet I need my money just the same!
Traveler Tim

— The End —