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Sunday, February 26, 2017

A Rootin-tootin' Ghazal

This poem has no GMO's! It's gluten-free!
It even defies gravity! Isaac-Newton-free!

The night owl's eyes prevent the morning watch,
But I would have the wee hours hootin'-free.

My calculator's batteries are drained:
No abacus for back-up. Computin'-free.

I gave away all my Jethro Tull albums:
My classic-rock collection's flutin'-free.

Rare is the corner on my side of the tracks
That's drinkin'-, druggin'-, prostitutin'-free.

Knotheads and Leftpapas trade barbs:
I'll switch the channel to stay disputin'-free.

In my home office, it's always casual Friday:
I don't dress up. I'm three-piece-suitin'-free.

Buy me a seat on the Amtrak to Chicago;
I'll leave South Station on the 2:10, free!

Where have you gone, Boris Nikolayevich?
I liked Mother Russia when it was Putin-free.

Missing his target by miles, Thomas engages
In a round of not-so-straight shootin', free.

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