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Fritter
When the day is done
Its temper tantrums
There’s nothing to write
The day is frittered away
Like laundry on the line
Set free to the wind
And it was never here
A conspiracy cover-up
Life frays a day
Punched out a stray crumb
From the pulsing loaf of bread
Laundry in the wind
You chase over the hills
We’re all empty days
That are frittered down to
Laundry in the wind…
