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George Bab.saay Jr.


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Monday

Walk straight, limp heart and heavy head
En route to ridicule road,
Quiet shrieks surround the bend.
Faces scarred, blaze miles ahead
as do red ears redder than red.

Play dead on grass,
On stone, on asphalt wrecked;
Or bake the grass; and stare at stones instead.

[Hata Bildir]