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A Journey When he got up that morning everything was different: He enjoyed the bright spring day, But he did not realize it exactly, he just enjoyed it. And walking down the street to the railroad station Past magnolia trees with dying flowers like old socks— It was a long time since he had breathed so simply. Tears filled his eyes and it felt good, But he held them back Because men didn’t walk around crying in that town. And waiting on the platform at the station The fear came over him of something terrible about to happen: The train was late and he recited the alphabet to keep hold. And in its time it came screeching in, And as it went on making its usual stops, People coming and going, telephone poles passing, He hid his head behind a newspaper, No longer able to hold back the sobs, and willed his eyes To follow the rational weavings of the seat fabric. He didn’t do anything violent as he had imagined. He cried for a long time, but when he finally quieted down A place in him that had been closed like a fist was open, And at the end of the ride he stood up and got off that train: And through the streets and in all the places he lived in later on He walked, himself at last, a man among men, With such radiance that everyone looked up and wondered. 61 ...

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