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THE TROLLEY
Yes, I knew what they were up to but
I didn’t much care:
my life barren enough
in the gray of this city,
the damned trolley,
every day the stinking crowd.
Fewer people–maybe not
a bad idea, in the long run.
But it was a baby voice
like my daughter’s
just learning to speak.
I don’t know what she said
but I knew she was scared.
I didn’t think–just did
what any decent father would do.