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My spiritual life stayed at the Common
it stays there quiet and still
after Boston’s parade for the champions of the world
policemen loosely circle to protect a teenage boy
he’s lying on winter pavement without a shirt
sleeping or unconscious his eyes are closed
he’s smiling as if satisfied with the very best and wanting nothing more
my spirit is lying on North Atlantic pavement in February without a shirt
we’re lying there smiling together

we all dishonor ourselves with pride and self-regard.