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To Joey Madia's previous piece
Pew-trid Mommy, can I go outside? (Incense burns my gut) The man with the big nose and his fat-calfed wife sings those same holiday hymns what child is this (whose gut burns?) o holy night (wonít you end?) Where is the folk singer with her pretty hair and vague guitar who sings new songs of ancient praise on summer Sundays? I do not like this place after dark. Wasnít Sunday morning sufficient? Wasnít I prayerful? I think I said to God my say. Daddy didnít comeó (if he did, would I have asked to leave??) I can see no priests in latter days only big-nose and fat-calves icons, smoke and fancy hats, all conspiring to make an Impression. I know now, it was not the incense that sickened me. Once out, I never went back in.
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