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Like impending shark attack victims
Through an ocean of them;
Cloying little dybbukkim*.
We lumber, stumble,
Pant our way forward.
All that matters is completing each tiny task before us.
(Dignity is better left to some other family.)
(Say, people who can breathe.)
They weren't nearly this difficult
Or a week ago.
What was it like,
To climb these stairs without
My heart pounding like a madwoman's?
When did breath become a commodity,
Sold in little plastic tubes?
I would be an accuser with a poisoned finger,
If only I could see them…
(Am I imagining my weakness?)
(Am I going deaf? Ill?)
My father never had
for pigeons. Flying rats.
Rats with wings; the connoisseurs of debris.
Whole flocks of them
eat the campus clean
While students congregate
to eat fried fat.
It's not that they're ugly birds…
But where would they be
Cities that bleed garbage made by men.
(And women, and babies, and cats.)
The dumb birds strip the
And then fly on to browner sidewalks.
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More