AFTER a round of inquiry,
descending into parody,
we drew our lots
for carrycots
and spoke, at last, with clarity:
WE'RE rich, as we were born to be:
this isn't cant or heresy,
it keeps us wrapped,
not stuck or trapped,
and so you can't embarrass me
ALONE, and with our fortune bare,
we choose this out of everywhere:
forget the rest,
for we're the best
and what is neither here, nor there,
AGAIN, is our great rectitude
like oil: buried, rich and crude --
the wind blows wild
on this child
swallowed in ineptitude
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I really enjoyed this. Are we ever alone, never alone, or a varied mix? I shall have to ponder on that!