One of the “itises”
I forget which
Perhaps one of the phobic brothers –
Claustro or Arachno,
Or sister Agora
Anyway, something or somebody is scaring me
And it can’t go on.
It’s time to root out the evil gene
Crush the weak chromosome
At the very least find someone
To prescribe something
to
make the voices stop
to
keep my hands from lifting the shop
Keep my pulse from racing the clock
After much thought
And a conversation with the angry combatants
I’d best be served by reason to
Kick against the covers
At thunder’s signal - chew up all the fences.
Bury the hatchet
deep
into the split-tail lovers.
(c) jim hill (4-8-03)
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