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Sidewalk Song

I see hopelessness

wandering the sidewalks —

and I hear walkers

whisper that this should

be hidden.

I spoke, one day,

to a poet who lived

in a bundle

in a doorway.

He was selling his heart

on folded papers.

Soon, I left

with a one dollar page

of tumbled words —

and was filled

by a song

of beauty —

softer than all

the walkers of the city.

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