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Rodak
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Pride
As with cops
and cholesterol
there are two kinds—
The bad one runs in herds.
All that huddled bleating
and conspicuous grazing
clogs the arteries of the soul—
Pride of place; pride of plaque.
The good kind—
though identified
and labeled
in its ostentatious paucity
by the defensive
non-comprehension
of the ubiquitous without—
having broken free, flows
straight to the heart—
essence identical
with purpose—
quietly unmoved
by its crisis-provoking
inwardness.
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