1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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