Stuart Ross
I Left my Station
They told me to sit right there.
I sang the praises of the secret police.
I felt the cool of lips on my brow.
I felt the barrel of a gun in my rib.
Each toe on my feet curled like a boll weevil.
Her voice was as pretty as a pretty thing.
Who was it I once loved?
I received an urgent phone call.
I realized I was not a human-shaped magnet.
I learned to play a broken mandolin.
Clouds made of porridge parted in the sky.
Seven blind crows swooped by.
A fire broke out at the Memorial Hall.
They poured a bucket of water on me.
I shrugged my big shoulders.
I left my station.
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