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First Rain


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The first shower of June

Has come and gone,

Like a prodigal, commiserating

But not intending to stay.

Even rain catches fire

In the heated hatred of our day.

 

I do not know which is better—

To live with the devouring sun

That, like right-wing politics, makes

No excuses for its carnivore gene,

Or to hanker after the rain,

Which, like socialism, promises much,

But in the end is but rarely seen.

 

 

 

 

 

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