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Postcards From the Edge

  • 11.04.201526.04.2020

A group of children run like an improv group unrehearsed
and guide your heart out with candour:
there is a sense of wonder in this dark rye sandwich
in a paper bag on a public square
as you eat it like the last supper, or the first,
while tourists around you breathe the light air,
an old couple walks across without a care.
Hints of anguish still meander
but today you shall not pander.


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