...
A man sits on a bench in the park talking
to himself in verse, and all the passers-by
ignore him, because he is mad
and do not notice that he speaks honestly
of the sound of the sun bleeding
out of the sky
and how nice it is to feel couplets
dropping off the edge of your tongue.
The ducks hear him, too, but they
also ignore him, not because he is mad
but because his verse is widely considered
to be very poor
and in the distance, a door slams shut.
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