PRESENCE WITHOUT PRETENCE
Sometimes we malign reality just by
being. Too many crowded butts on a
quite narrow couch. The creepy ones
run off, like the Lone Ranger and Tonto
on a mission of their own. Silver bullets
and tenting alone. In the days of old, in
the days of gold. In the days of' '49.
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Now the trolley cars come through the
western town, along newly laid tracks
sunk into the ground, and the people
relax while they ride around. They've
never seen anything like this before.
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