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The man with the

lion head scurries to california

in september ’49, he grabs

a sack of gold and wanders

further south, teetering like he is

drunk.  His former love is in the

water, three reflections of her, sparkling

like they aren’t real.  He needs more sun,

but it gets so hot and

the water runs out, he needs to look at

the gold and a tribe of slaves

around him chanting in

words he can finally understand, ‘come and

conquer us, we want a king with teeth

so sharp and eyes made to see blood, we

call it life and look how it is in us and not

in you.’

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