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Monday, May 6, 2013

Mixed metaphors by John von Daler

I was eight years old, listening to the radio in my bedroom
one sunny morning.
An Oklahoma choir was singing a song about
chickenfeed. Honeysuckle vines garlanded my window,
hardly a cloud in the sky and heat on the way. A man's
voice said, "Joseph Stalin is dead" and mornings and
honeysuckle and chickenfeed and a deceased dictator
got permanently tied up in my head. Life mixes its metaphors.

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