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4-F, and: Legal Assistants

4-F, and: Legal Assistants 43 We mow the lawn, eat, sleep, die. The moon makes us want to lie down beneath it and die. In May, the trees drop their seeds In puffs like dingy cotton. Seeds That gather in balls across the yard. Our children Are frightened. We never want them to act like children. The drive-bys so often while they're playing Catch them playing. Judith Claire Mitchell 4-F New Haven, 1973, the Year of the Lottery, spring semester the Victorian next door is turned into a funeral home. Look, you say, workers hammering brass letters above the door, they're putting the fun in Funeral. Such good neighbors those Victorians, so unobtrusive, so hushed yet so tolerant of our own clash and clatter. Never once do they ask us to turn down the music. And, too, we have so much in common. Isn't our favorite band The Dead? Don't we spend our afternoons riding that train high on cocaine while they ride that same train 44 to Jordan? And aren't we all so cool, so damned cool? Still, we can never bridge the cursed generation gap--you and I such punsters, such pranksters, and the neighbors, let's face it, a big bunch http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

4-F, and: Legal Assistants

Prairie Schooner , Volume 82 (1) – May 11, 2008

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 University of Nebraska Press
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

43 We mow the lawn, eat, sleep, die. The moon makes us want to lie down beneath it and die. In May, the trees drop their seeds In puffs like dingy cotton. Seeds That gather in balls across the yard. Our children Are frightened. We never want them to act like children. The drive-bys so often while they're playing Catch them playing. Judith Claire Mitchell 4-F New Haven, 1973, the Year of the Lottery, spring semester the Victorian next door is turned into a funeral home. Look, you say, workers hammering brass letters above the door, they're putting the fun in Funeral. Such good neighbors those Victorians, so unobtrusive, so hushed yet so tolerant of our own clash and clatter. Never once do they ask us to turn down the music. And, too, we have so much in common. Isn't our favorite band The Dead? Don't we spend our afternoons riding that train high on cocaine while they ride that same train 44 to Jordan? And aren't we all so cool, so damned cool? Still, we can never bridge the cursed generation gap--you and I such punsters, such pranksters, and the neighbors, let's face it, a big bunch

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: May 11, 2008

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