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The Place
He climbed up on stools
And counters
To screw light bulbs
In and out,
He could not find
The right light switches,
She told me what
A deal it was,
That I should buy
The place,
This little old couple
Huddling around
A small space heater,
Eating a fast food dinner
With their fingers,
I remembered meeting
Them about a dozen
Years ago, shortly
After they bought
The place,
Shadows of themselves
They were and
The place was cold,
Damp, dimly lit,
Smelling musty and
Dirty with whiffs
Of a cooling, half
Eaten, greasy fast
Food dinner hanging
In the air.
Stephen Nesbitt © .
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