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Elephants Die

They hunt in packs Alone they are nothing The Bears and Bulls Until the market crashes And they are rats They glow in the night Red eyes in black shapes They aggressively feast On a moonlit carcass In the clearing They have appetites They theorize In mainstreams of thought Prevailing in that day and age They laugh at Socrates Controlled though Because they are seeking tenure The old elephant bull Knows it is time To cross the River Majestic and final It reaches the scrap yard Of skulls and tusks And lays down to sleep.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

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