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From A News Vet's Notepad--A Prose Poem






LOS ANGELES (MacArthur Park)--The little girl--in white chiffon dress
sang and danced around the park bench loaded with old hombres...all
wearing Lakers and Clippers sports caps, except for one...wearing an
extra-wide-brimmed sombrero--in drag. No one let out a titter...no
one flashed a smile.
Stopping in front of a man lying on the grass, next to a grocery cart
loaded with all sorts of earthly wares (a blanket, an old b/w tv,
some empty soda cans and bottles), she asked, "Are you having a
picnic, too, mister?" Without missing a beat, before the man could
say a word, she said, "Mister, today is my birthday. I don't see you
with a food basket, so can I ask my mom and dad to give you some
food?" The man harshly shot back, "I am a war vet, young lady.
Move away from my front lawn!!!"
Visibly shaken, she ran to her parents--crying. Walking by the war
vet, this news vet saw him held up this sign:
WAR VETERAN. WILL WORK FOR FOOD.
God bless the little girl. This news vet salutes her parents.
This news vet shouts at The Establishment.

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