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That Stupid
It was a Sunday
Kind of Saturday,
Everything as quiet
And lonely as the statue
Dressed in the Santa Claus
Suit and beaten by the wind,
A cold wind
Hinting of snow
And things to come,
Even the street people
Were missing from the ally
And under the tree on the corner,
It was as if
I had missed an
Evacuation order,
I sat with a cup of Wuyi
Rock and wondered about
The rumours of World War Three,
That stupid
We can’t be until
I see they’re releasing
War Horse on Christmas Day,
Yes we are, yes we can be
That
stupid.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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