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It Ain’t the Heat, It’s the Stupidity Ah, my city of dog piss and palm trees and vibrating beds! Around here, moonlight sneaks out like a possum. I can’t stand the grind of going nowhere, cranky As a pickup truck stuck in the mud. By the signs for the megamall and the old plantation, Jesus quotes Himself on every other billboard. The air’s so wet it’s like sweet tea leaking From a widow’s dewlap on a cool verandah. In the Rites of the Wounded Magnolia, they all Kneel down to the cotton boll and the cannon ball. Half the people are still in love with the dead, And everyone I know up north is moving here. • • • 10 ...

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