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Shay Ruth Nov 2012
I caught sunshine

Holding it loosely in my palm

A crooked smile

Offered to warm you

What a fool of constant racing

A mutterer discovers her fault

Didn’t she know to keep the sun?

One warmth caged by unspoken words

Maybe today it is clear

Maybe today she will learn

Maybe today the sun chooses

Maybe today his mind will change
to quote a generation, “Whatever…”

history will mark the day this uselessness
is forever banned, this day will be paraded
along the Avenue where astronauts feted,
Super bowl heroes greeted in tall canyons,
no more ticker tape, will shred them invoices
marked overdue,  so they will remain status
unchanged, but whatever will be part and
parcel of the disparaged disappeared, for
it insults the recipient twice as much as the
mutterer utterer, for why not say, best direct,
I disrespect us both and won’t give a moment
to consider what you’ve stated, afraid, that exercising a
right to minimal modicum of caring will die out
with that generation, and we will spake a loud
Aleleuya,
and all will answer with feeling,  
with a smiling thumbs up,
and W. Whitman will join in…



11:40am
Sun May 25, 2024

— The End —