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Sunday, November 17, 2024

station



by horace p sternwall



i was walking down the street
with wings on my feet
a chap asked me the time
i threw him a dime

i wanted a nickel, you fool
he shouted as we ran back to school
where the history teacher, mister fire
was discoursing on the roman empire

we shook the dust off our shoes
and told everybody the news
that civilization was dead
and we should all have fun instead

our pleas fell on deaf ears
those were the lean years
we felt no elation
when, after a long journey, we finally arrived at the railroad station



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