Photo Finish [Today's News Poem, March 14, 2010]
Like usual I'll throw the ball at cat.
The two of you will probably compete.
To paw it first, to earn a praise and pat.
Perhaps I'll pause and think of near defeat;
America is in decline I've heard.
My son might live to chase on dirty streets
The heirs of better times: they're fucking turds.
Noblesse oblige perhaps will stick around
To fund the anxious lives that chase one thrill,
And flee another. Idle play is bound
To hasten futures such as this—the bill
Is due, I'll think, as light expands to trap
The cat in pounce. My son and I will—zap.
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