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Friday, July 16, 2021

solitary thinker


by horace p sternwall



i had a parakeet once
named romulus dupree
nobody liked him much
but he was always nice to me

i was arrested by scotland yard
for a crime i did not even commit
and you all did not care
not even a little bit

but the parakeet was a brick
and stood by me through thick and thin
that is what a pal is for
who does not care if you lose or win

they sent me to devils island
and gave me a suit of stripes
the warden was a solitary thinker
who drank wine and smoked a pipe

he invited me to dinner
and served me potatoes and beef
the candles flickered in the gloom
as he expounded his beliefs

i ask you to listen to me, he said
for as long as it may take
the walls were covered with old masters
but i suspected they were fake

i thought of the poor apprentice
in a studio cold and bleak
copying rembrandt and velasquez
seven days a week

i thought of a tramp steamer
carrying pigment to paris and marseilles
i thought of a cottage in the mountains
and a tear fell from my eye



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