Poem
Why do incompetent
have so much love
to talk about?
Those who snail
trail
their
mess
always first to bless.
Enshrined are
the dirty laundry movers
forgivers of broken vases
in countless antique stores.
The drivers who read manuals
on the highway
name their children after
the first and last policeman
to wave them on their way
with a to-be-bloodied hand,
an unfilled pad.
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