We are regaled by them for many hours
by men who come and go,
so when they come they scream
“sorry I am late!”
and when we go they shriek
“wait, I’m not done yet!”
And there we are left with our faces hanging open-
gaping maws drooling on a piles or recyclable paper
too heavy for even the most qualified of janitors to persuade
And there are our germs left clinging to our thrones,
the ones that no one seems to own
but our lazy, ragged bones.
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