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The Week End

The week-end: an American pastime.
A seven letter word dialed once a week
From coast to coast upon week's end;
Craved and cherished in millions of parched souls;
A ressurection of the psyche.
As thirst swells the tongue of one lost in the desert,
Who, seeking an oasis,at first will walk
Then crawl and, in the final throes, slither,
Having fallen prey to the hallucinogenic power
Of the mirage.
The final reward: a mouthful of sand.
And so the blind continue investing
In the valley of shadows;
A town called Hope hidden deep
In the wasteland of the American dream.
The Promised Land now scourged by Satan's Triangle:
Overpopulation; unemployment; a government not for the people.
But let us flee once again at week's end
When our woes will be soothingly massaged away.
Out of soul, out of mind. Let's drink the night away
And forget them for a while,
Compressing seven days worth of living
Into our week-end illusion

� 1993 Frank Cadillac

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