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  • Hridi

No Revolution Please

No revolution please.

Get brown sugar instead, the next best substitute.

Don't be alarmed, I need a cocktail.

Rotting in water to make one's what-do-you-call-it

Yea, that's the best, your personal innovation of

perfect liquor (roll the 'r')

Call it, say, an old car. Fifteen years old and finally to the

trash. And with it the funny secrets since four. You six.

No problem, call it Love too. Suits me, either way.

Someone broke the piggy bank, the new vehicle be blue.

One hitch.

Some notes are red stained.

Sorry I'm rich, but that's from when water and toilet paper ran out last summer. I was menstruating, not like you can blame me.

Honestly, I wouldn't care for broken down cars or ships.

I'm afraid of some small things.

Let's say it's OK I think.

Going by my haphazard calculations, by the time this

revolution strikes, we should be ready.

I expect to have a house by then. For us. Or at least, a barrel.

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