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cowboy poetry

i shake my hair in the wind of morning
she was a beauty in the days
i know what you're going to say
if it
beside a stricken field
what was it the engines said
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
eighty years have passed, and more
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
master of human destinies am i
tell me less or tell me more

 



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