![]() ![]() ![]() Longing for a wave of love that would stir in me. I won’t say a word, and will understand every language. I’ll be known to everyone, and suspect to no one. A service car will stop, and the mayor will take me aboard. In the crowded bar, the bartender will find me a table. I’ll be pushed around, and I’ll push back. Then I’ll buy a newspaper and read it from headlines to horoscope … If someone stumbles over my legs, he’ll have to apologize. Then I’ll be shaved by a Turkish barber who will massage me down to the fingertips. What is wrong with peace that its inspiration doesn’t endure … and that its story is hardly told?
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