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Running with Another TLS Poem in my Head
The bulge of the sea above the benches shows High tide, and I’ll be driven off the sand Onto the rocks. I should have calmly planned My run, by the tide-chart, but old drip-nose Reading his Homer troubled my repose, Reading his Times indeed almost unmanned Me with his questions. He can’t understand Why gods and heroes cause so many woes. Odysseus, with his lies and murders — not a bit nice! Couldn’t he practice a gentler kind of vice? These Afghans, skinning the Russian infidel Alive! Blood-smeared old Faiths, awake and well, Inflicting on us still their gruesome folly … Why can’t we all be good, and kind, and jolly?
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