twenty one degrees and
four hundred seventy three
homeless schoolkids in my town
hanging 'round to sleep in cars
if they are lucky enough to have one
retail's looking up
we have our gifts
we have our heaters cranked
and blowing smoke
past egos to
disquised posteriors
inner peace in hues of visa
trees lit
songs sung
reason for the season
shouted to combat
the "war on Christmas"
still it's twenty one degrees
and four hundred seventy three schoolkids
are homeless in my town.
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