The explanation behind this poem will come in the next post!
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Division of Labor
Sixteen taxis, waitin' in line,
I don't need one, walkin's fine.
They say there isn't work for all,
since the economy took that fall.
I say,
What work is that? Compared to those
Who mop the floors and iron clothes!
When crises come, it takes a man
to see no work where women can.
Beneath your dignity, you say?
Then wait in line another day!
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Poolside Laureate 