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The Errand Boy I To get quicker through the day and to bring on night as a blessing, to lie down in a sleep that is a dream of completion, he takes up his package from the floor—he has been ordered to do so, heavy as it is, his knees weakening as he walks, one would never know by his long stride—and carries it to the other end of the room. The Dream Someone approaches to say his life is ruined and to fall down at your feet and pound his head upon the sidewalk. Blood spreads in a puddle. And you, in a weak voice, plead with those nearby for help; your life takes on his desperation. He keeps pounding his head. It is you who are fated; and you fall down beside him. It is then you are awakened, the body gone, the blood washed from the ground, the stores lit up with their goods. Say Pardon Say pardon to a bum, brushing past him. He could lean back and spit and you would have to wipe itoff. How would you explain that you have insulted 42 | Poems of the 1960s ...

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