Cattle Bones

What good does it do to bring down
mountains to watch them
disintegrate into plastic pearls
unfit for consumption.
The barn doors are coming
down riddled with prisoner
slashes to count down the days.
The phones are silent. The
padlock swings in the wind.

Meat, guns and alcohol
transported in large refrigerated
trucks. It ties us all together.
It makes us everything we are
not. A good sentence, numbers
rearranged. It all works out
in the end. We are all
breathing nothing but dust.

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