With the Best of Them

Tuning forks, assemble.
Let us resemble whiteout conditions
in this three-pronged race towards death.
Regrettably, I could never hold my breath
for that long. From frontier to dank interior,
a battle rages; some of us, emboldened spectators,
others helpless participants.
Just as long as the psycho sycophants
don’t have their way, it’s all marmalade baby.
We’ll win or lose with the best of them.
And afterwards, during the commercial break,
we can take to the air, burrow inside
of the cumulus clusters
as they muster themselves for sullen dispersal.

-r. miller

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