Going to Hell in a Handcart

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In a multiverse, where the red string of fate
bow ties, ribbonesque, ’round the entry points,
shallow mortals sit sipping tea and cherry cola.

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Their polar opposites in composite poses
propose alternative roles where nobody knows
if we’re up or down or Wednesday or wise

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while the madmen who pose in invisible clothes,
dispose of our funds by the hundreds of billions;
pushing us all through the red door,
                      in battle painted handcarts.

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©LorraineVoss.Sept2025