People Over Politics, World Over Wealth
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In my youth, there it sat, in
our refrigerator, big and fat.
Cut into thin or thick slices;
catsup, mustard, mayo. Spices
otherwise were quite optional.
Often borderline transactional.
A tasty, less-than-healthy snack
in lunch, my mom would pack.
And Twinkies might go in, too;
spongy cakes filled with goo.
Another snack I’ve put aside.
Here’s the truth I will not hide.
I don’t eat bologna any more.
It never even darkens my door.
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