by M Ray Holloway, Jr.
Lumbering out of his cave at a pace that a snail would be envious of....,
But not very envious,
Came into our lives today.
He whispered his stick-torch breath over the grass huts of the village nearby,
Then he found us in our temples.
Having been told for centuries that our foundation would hold,
We knelt and thanked our lord for his
The foundation folded
And with it crumbled
The gods that we thanked,
Silently giving in to the fire.
"Hey, Joe!" the man cried to his buddy.
"Loan me a dollar, will ya?"
"Sure, man," his friend replied.
"After all, it's only money."
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