They shoot horses, don't they? Yes,
a lot -- not so much for broken legs
as when they backtalk. Trash bags
ride Mister Ed, who floats like a mote --
Brownian drift, then through a wormhole
and out the other side
To the jeers of average Joes.
"By the by," et cetera from heads
on a talk show. It's way worse than you know.
This sour nag pissed off plenty
with that razor blade on her tongue.
As for the anonymous "them":
Inapposite others with buttons to press;
they scattered her awareness
as a price for failing to focus
on her own reflection, which they tried
in vain to give. Their stabs
sprayed snow off the car hood.
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