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Richard Robbins
excerpt from The Odds

He was against the vowel shift and most
contractions. He was against lemon zesters,
calamari, the execution of
Mata Hari, Harry Potter, fizzy
water, laughter, Daffy Duck, Chuck Norris,
Doris Day singing anything related
to Christmas, Miss Manners, Ann Landers, Gander
Mountain, Rin Tin Tin, cheap rhyme, your mother.

He was against the sun coming up and going down,
or rather, the earth turning. Or rather,
the way times gets into the act. Or rather,
the idea of history like too much loose
change in a threadbare pocket. Or rather,
your mother, who sold us all
downriver in 1862.

He was against everything, finally.
Even the patience of his wife, who really
should have kicked his ass. Even his dog,
who continued to snuggle his shoe. Even
the forgiving mirror, the soft couch
of his living room. Against even
John Coltrane, God bless him. Against even blessing.