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Intellectual House o' Pancakes Webdiary

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2005-11-14 - 3:42 p.m.

Here's a poem written whilst a-waitin' for the subway.

God Addresses the Strap-hangers

Here comes the train.
You didn't have to run.
Here comes the train,
As it tends to do, eventually.

And when there's something
round the bend
you can only feel
but not see,

Know that breeze
that rumbling
that smell of speed and stopping
is me.

Big monkey trouble in Sector 18-C!

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