_____________________________
RAIN MAKER
Bound and tired,
My love constrained
Afraid of what will be-come
Of what I know
And welcome
As not enough.
Somehow this
Beautiful man misses truth
By margins proportional
To that of Skilling and Fastow.
My books are cooked.
Media meltdowns have delivered
This shell.
The end
Isn't come.
Light as a dehydrated sponge
Waiting for rain.
_____________________________
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