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As If

Sky brightens after last night’s rain

a slow crescendo of light through my window.

Train whistle blows over beyond and on

and on farther distant through and past

our town romantic as a thing can be

as if these are the days of train

whistles barges and ships as if

there are not cars rushing by on a highway

not so very far from here after all

as if women and men still wore hats

carried umbrellas as if we all

still danced in pairs wrote letters

with pens on paper as if this

electric clock at my elbow did not

flash red numbers telling me I must

go and do the things required by

modern life.

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