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EVOLUTION.

Blackbirds tilt their beacon beaks
and dash, like little dinosaurs,
when I hove into view; a prospect
every local cat deplores;
they look at me with feline scorn
and pad away on bloodless paws,
glancing back as if to ask
why I don’t follow nature’s laws?

◄ HIGHWAY CODA.

THE CRACKS. ►

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