They've explained us away a dozen times: some passing
meteorite or another, the rat-like mammalseating our pitiful young, all kinds
of new weather. Issueless, but far too stupid to be forlorn,we trundle along the pink quartz shore
to sip at the lukewarm edge of yet another evaporating sea.
From "Feeling Sorry for Myself While Standing Before the Stegosaurus at
the Natural History Museum in London," by Michael Derrick Hudson.
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