Forty
Something One Day Down
by Douglas McCulloch
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鈥淟ife鈥檚 a bitch and then you鈥檙e
dead鈥
She said, as if there were no echoes,
No memories, no heavens and no hells,
Here or elsewhere,
As if examples did not reverbrate,
Broadcast all around, seeds for the future,
Whether she likes it or not,
To tint our common heavens grey or blue.
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She wasn鈥檛 deprived, in fact the cream
She was (we鈥檙e being polite, d鈥檡ou mind?)
Among the brightest, God help us,
And, I have no doubt, a 鈥渞ealist鈥,
Who thought the truth would make her free.
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It鈥檚 true; free she is,
Like water without a bucket or a gardener.
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Copyright
1997 Douglas McCulloch
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