July 4th Flowers, spent.
All that's left, a sunbleached tent,
Red, white and blue decor hangs on,
Ice chest gaping, beer all gone.
Coverage of the beaches, next;
Heavy hurt, my old lament:
Teeming, unclad women. Ren't
Of anything that marks good sense.
Nakedness, unmitigated.
Culture dies, free-dominated.
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| It's that thing they do, because they can; fly open, also ran. Beneath: Memorialized names to scan. |
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