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Yeah, Blah-Blah, Lemonade
Life gives you lemons and blah blah
You make something.
Over the river and through the meadow
To somebody’s house
You go. Wherever.
Even a whole water tower full of lemons
wouldn’t get me to purse my lips or go
hangdog for the sugar.
Not even a stockade of weapons and lemons
Could pull me
into a tart righteousness, citrus buffs.
I’ll ride my bicycle clear on by,
No matter what.
So just think about the silos. East of here,
Missile bins have gone
Empty since the Russians ran out
Of imagination. And lemonade pitchers
and the Blah blah of surveillance
And static and the bullshit night
when you are supposed to make one thing
from something else, even a perfect yellow orb,
One that can give you nothing,
And of course, everything.
Blah, blah lemonade
They were saying over the two-way
Radios, the ones that kept coming in
Late at night, from the coast,
We thought it was Blah, blah.
But the world was alight in lemons.
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