Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Miami Beach Conventions

The least of our problems,
Were wet patches of mud,
If you looked down to try to avoid them,
You'd be squashed with a thud,

We stayed close, following the ones who knew,
Vests bright so to be seen,
If I hadn't passed the dinner tables,
I would have assumed they couldn't have been,

Each step uncovered a new obstacle,
Ne'er mind the acrid dust,
The only way out was to just accept,
Accept we knew we must,
So must you all,
Or, you know, I guess don't,
There are diff'rent ways to navigate life,
But if you expect it to bend, it won't.

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