Stressed out in these
narrow mews
Street lighting movement lopes
Realistically I’m far
from clear
Avoiding trudging on my hopes
So many things presentable
Such abundant
cornucopia
As I see it I can say
it twice
Like double visions
of utopia
In the babbling
brooks of culture
Outward bound is my
veneer
Half told jokes with
unknown folks
In bars and taverns
drinking beer
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