Thinking it�s the delivery pizza,
he opens the door
to The Votive Angel,
arrayed in slogan-splattered silks,
carrying her sword-sharp pen.
Silently she strides past him,
her silver boots crunching empty beer cans.
�Apathetics,�
she roars to the house at large,
�Arise and vote.�
The woman in the kitchen stirring soup looks up,
�Who for, dear?� she inquires amiably.
�Think,�
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