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Neighborhood Blockheads
When a pair of fighter jets
Buzzed over the parapets
They woke up the entire block
Though the pilots had regrets
But still the neighborhood frets
At each ticking of the clock
This deafening sound they battled
Their dishes chipped and rattled
And went crashing to the floor
With nerves all spent and addled
The block packed up and saddled
No one lives here anymore
Copyright ©
Randy Freie
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