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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.