Mud People
Are you the last free thing
soft rain
they haven't found a way to make me pay
for you
fall on the poor
unrighteous lazy unjust
slide down the awnings
with soft hands
find us
where we loll
unproducing units yet
wet through
to skin
wet through
wash that slight grit coating
into the pond
into the sludge
into mud
back to where the lotus grows

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