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53 Give Me Poland Give me some ruckus in a minor key, some spacious yearning Compressed into a cigar I can smoke on the beach. I like murmur And lace coming toward me, otherwise black. Give me physics’ Best answer—is reality a scam, apart from consciousness? Give me plunder and a woman, gold bars and a horse. Give me a hat that announces how I’m feeling, so that when I wear it people leave me the hell alone. But give me company In labor. I won’t care what happens when I’m dead— I’ll be so thin, so far off and transparent. Just leave one Old song beyond existence. Give me names of flowers I can sew In couplets, and walk among the rows in spring, tra la. Give me Poland, I like Poland—how tough and smart, from so many beatings. But promise, no more invasions. Give me a seat on the tram, Young teeth, a smoky cafe, a blindfold. Give me Poland. ...

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