My local post office
was besieged yesterday.
I shirked the queue to skirt
the mask-less, living chins attack.
Every molecule
might be blame-free in its
shop-worn simulacra,
(seeped in from a loud one's
Meeja Stud. homework - aargh)
Nothing's no bother when
bothered most the time, but
I don't fool easy:
dealers of gruff guff,
say, or gran's skimped covers
(unfit for emboldened
street wine quaffers even)
two examples of risk.
I ignore youth's slave talk
but mentally in bits,
(and still without a stamp)
You really are an artist
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Thanks!
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