Twenty Fifth Street
The wide Sargasso Sea,
Casts its shadow;
Sir Andrew Aguecheek doing spadework perhaps,
A miscellany of brats scattering.
Belying this boost,
The Jacaranda looks sly now,
Someone has the upper hand,
It is a gracious performance.
Then come the trailers,
Endless it seems,
Like ships in the night;
Time for a quick fandango,
Thence, off to even song,
To denounce the heroes.
The calculators are hard at it,
And the sun brings solace,
To the grinders and scrapers,
And the bobbing boats.
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