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Twenty Four: Dinosauria, we too February 9, 2014

Posted by The Typist in 365, New Orleans, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
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[Sound of gun shots & screaming. Silence. Then, a voice on the microphone.]

Radio Free Toulouse is now in the hands of the Committee for No Tomorrow.

Your water is poison.
Your food is a mutation.
Your breath is the sputum
of universal electrification.
When the frogs
with their thin
sensitive skin died
you thought:
I am not a frog.

When God was
pronounced dead
you rioted
in bachic exaltation
to the soundtrack
of the waiting sacrifices
& later raised
your feral children
in minivan prisons.

You sacrificed them
on the altar
of Our Ford
with patriotic regret
& rode proudly
in the open convertible
behind the closed casket.

When they came
for your government
you voted for
an orderly transition.
There’s a special
at Red Lobster:
how could the oceans
be dying?

There will not be
a knock & announce
when they come for you.
Curl up comfortably
in front of the TV
&pretend you
are not on their list.

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