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Postmodern Village
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The Posturing Grackle
by Francine DuBois

the accountant's wife
in her adorable jag
bats her eyelashes
not in coyness
but in vapidity

she does have a brain
don't get me wrong
but she tends let it simmer
like that jasmine rice
she eats every day

i am certain that
thoughts are brewing
up there somewhere
but i swear all she does
is eavesdrop, never

spitting any of her
overhearings into
gossip, so it's utterly
unproductive listening
it's a dead end

and it's all in those
cat eyes, you know
she must hate you
and she's still trying
to figure out why

until then, she will
simply feel challenged
and betrayed, and
slide back into her
all-too-comfortable home

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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