May 17, 2012
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He walked the street, hat in hand,
hair mussed and sweaty, skin gleaming,
I stood in the shade, gripping a fan,
Drinking cool tea, streaming,
He whistled, hummed, mumbled a prayer,
I silently cursed, despised, gnashed my teeth
behind cool pride,
He was so innocent of vanity,
ignorant of high society,
He was used to the low work of those,
How I bet he dreamed of being cooled with my hose,
Here I stood, in the shade of cool shadows,
while he slaved in the heat,
I was bitter, full of hate,
and he, full of hope, knowing his fate

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