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Pitch it
Steamy showers soothe the skin
leave a tingling sensation
a warm towel wrapped around the body
drys off the water that was left
fresh crisp clothes ripped on ripped off
in the mornings
when we go to bed
and sometimes in between
breafast when we wake up
lunch during the day
supper when we return home
on the couch we lay
watch a show
fight for the remote
a house too cold we turn up the heat
wrap ourselves in fuzzy sheets
and if it’s hot
crank the A/C
jump in a pool
drink some iced tea
why walk when you can drive
push the gas if you want to fly
brake when you must stop
heaven forbid you get a red light
our pencil gets too short for the comfort
of our uncalloused hands
pitch it
with the snug clothes
that scream out our flaws
the half-eaten hot dog
that’s a day old
the old books
with the old words
that no longer seem to please our eye
pitch it with the dirty shoes
the frayed ribbon
that once adorned our hair
the gifts we didn’t really ask for
pitch it with the outcast
the ones on the streets
the ones we look away from
temporarily blinded to their lives
pitch it like the millions
the millions in the furnace
gassed to death
because they don’t belong
their names don’t even deserve a capital letter
pitch them
pitch them with their hopes
of a meal that day
of a bed
screw sheets
of not having their prison number on the list
of the next ones to die
not a name
a number
you’re not allowed to cry
pitch it with the child who cannot go to school
his hands aren’t meant for writing
but working like a tool
knowledge is no gift
it’s a curse you see
not a blessing but a stressing
to you and him and me
pitch it with the others
the ones who can’t believe
are forced to a religion
worship with every fiber of their being
when they don’t want to
at all
well, we must sit on a hard pew
let our minds drift to other things
and finally, it’s done
go back to being me
the internet is slow
medieval torture was too
the wifi connections weak
just as the starving child
the waters too warm to drink; not refreshing enough
too dizzy to see straight, some lick at steam
her shoes are the bomb, I want a pair, too
have the boots that bomb just blew off the soldiers feet
but they aren’t designer
pitch them
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