Small innocence --
too slow for hard labor
-- dried up in the recession.
Onto a hansom cab we drive
worm-rotted and age-eaten facts,
a million points of view
echoing on frigid masonry.
One fact brings them together:
Strangle the ad man, they say,
with words not his. Do it
alone. Behold the shaft of light
stinging life with winter's breath,
the expansion of the ages.
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