Aren’t we all at the edge of the cliff,
Husbands, wives, sons and daughters…
Tanning by
an empty pool,
On the table,
a pitcher, no water.
Resting
before the tornado,
A rare calm
before the storm…
We reminisce
about iced tea
When good weather
was the norm.
Now we mark
a pleasant day
As “Safe” in
our modern compound
Hungry and
drinking still warm piss
In our
shelter underground.
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