One O’clock Exit

All the foes left, the room emptied ,that crowd of savvy heads./ Guys that never gave me one jot. /There they go,/brushing off the raindrops, /comrades in arms./ I stare out the window, /through blue film dusk. Harm plants itself, even in Eden, every which way /n the air/I know they’re angry./They ran out of money.

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