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for J.S Once it strikes little can be done. It’s like a lightning bolt that leaves everything in its path scorched, bleak, and stunned. The guy in his MAGA cap yells at my friend that she’s a scaremonger for wearing a mask while filling her car with gas. No matter that she had a triple by-pass only months in the past; this ass knows best. (Why do I need rhyme to describe this crime?)
Charles W. Brice’s collections of poetry include An Accident of Blood (WordTech, 2019).
Copyright 2020 Charles W. Brice