Spread It Poem by James McLain
Spread It
Like smooth red clay,
with a one handed driver.
Rubber trees, are owned by who now?
Do you need it, to smell the road?
It's nose rubbed in tar, you follow it's words
across it's top, in a thin trickle of water,
found in almost every scoop, full, plump rasins.
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5/5/2024 1:12:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
