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A Bus Poem

The subway is so foul somedays there is nothing to do
but take off your head and stow it in your bag
as I myself did this morning, boarding the L-
a technique learned from my friend Biff the bouncer,
and taking only a little practice to perfect:
the right hand planting a sharp rap aside the mandible
while the left draws the head up smartly by the topknot.

Head in the sack, held securely in the lap
one is spared the slings and arrows of the madding crowd;

the richly stained floorboard; the boogeyman scrawl
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