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Veneer of Civilization
Most men live lives of quiet desperation.
HARPER’S article shows man
collecting labels of lost advertisings
Stripped from magazines
Colorful and obscene..
The speed of earth’s rotation, its speed around the sun.
White light from the sun,
its eruptions spewing nuclear fire into the void,
our eyes melted by molecules
we should avoid and not look at, at all.
The anger of playing golf for hours
through the springtime dew,
so many swings at the white
Or yellow ball, the clock ticking our final doom,
inch by inch slower
But the golf carts rumble
down broken paths of asphalt
While empty houses sit majestically along fairways,
no one home to watch
the futility, the links empty of laughter
But clubs thrown skyward after shouts of pain.
Who can or will carry Bob home
If he has that heart attack?
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