HomeopathicSally Van Doren
My stereotype is your automatic Duende. Our cousins, arrested In distractions so ubiquitous The clouds can’t temper them, Catalogue their superstitions With e-mailed poultices. And We still call our defects family. I spasm when you order me to Put the powder under my tongue. I’m a congealing bohemian, not An alchemist. Leave me in my Zirconium tub, scavenging for Helium. When I enter the chasm Of health, I’ll send you a fluoride Rebate. The snake’s bite dries on My arm just the like the pages and Pages of your impotence. It’s all Me, me, me and my name is Experience. I trust you to diagnose My identity. Do it now!
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