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do I hate the rascists
or the immigrants
I hate the rascists
love can’t be captured in a poem
but if the poem’s any good
it might be set free
anonymous, he disembarks
and heads
for any old london bar

and thinks, should I collapse
and die     ..
and drinks to each strange
passer by
of course, looking on
the bright side can
ruin your eyes  ..
she said he should think
about looking at things a little
differently, so he closed one eye
in what she considered to be
a quite infuriating wink
arrived home and unlocked the door
which thanked me and quickly
disappeared
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