My presidentSaysIf I drink bleachThe “invisible enemy”Will be noMore.Why hadn’tAnyoneSaid this sooner?Oh, bleach,You make ourHandsSo sensitiveto the touch:As dry as Atacama,As cracked asThe phone my sisterDropped down the elevator shaft.But I forgive you,ForYou removeOur GrassOur MudOur Spaghetti stains.Oh, bleach!The combatter of Anything neededTo be wipedAway,You areThe nightmare ofEvery speck of dirt,Of grimeThe solution to anyCrisis.You make…
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