the sun sets to the top
of the neighboring Motophoto
and good upper deck people
a train whistle in my sink
grins with pride but no teeth
happy like a frat boy
with a blond and a dalmation
the time comes to check the swing
that grin won't last forever
pick up the whistle it's time to sing
a blues in the key of clever.
Its name is Public Opinion. It is held in reverence. It settles everything.
Some think it is the voice of God.
-- Mark Twain
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