The art of losing your stuff isn't hard for masters;
so many things seem they intend you to loose
so easy it is for them to say, no disaster.
Masters loose stuff like fluff every day. deal with it little
buster.
you lost your money, your son, portfolio prize.
Master B lost your rights and plenty of your lives.
Masters practice losing farther, pockets fatter:
places, and people, and where we were we meant
to go as a nation. None of these will bring disaster.
At least not to those who get to be master.
Toby lost his car. And look! Tom lost his house,
and three loved children went to live with his spouse.
The art of your losing isn't hard for the master.
Trees lost ten cities, ugly gaps. And, their master,
lost land we owned, jobs, rivers, a continent.
we miss them, in the hands of other governments.
--losing innocence,jobs, ice-creatures, beaches--it's
(the mocking voice, a gesture, "climate shift")
I can't tell you why. But I see it to--clear.
the art of losing's not too hard for masters.
though masters (say it), a little oil, (no) "disaster."
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