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Friday, April 22, 2011

the sun

I pity creatures underground. I pity the prisoner, the kidnapped man in a sack. The blind, I pity. And those peoples up North who eat seal and live out their days in obscurity, I pity them too. I pity unborn children and the pale-skinned hermit who lives holed-up. I pity schmucks with small windows and file-clerks in cubicles. Night watchmen, I pity, and conductors of the wagons-lits. I pity them all. I pity Australians too during the day; and at night, I pity me. But most of all (in increasing order), I pity the mole, the albino, the vampire.