Poem Hunter
Observed Matter
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Observed Matter

Poem By Bill Grace

I watched the ice cream boy
Give the self proclaimed deaf mute
Half an hour’s wage at where he worked when he was panhandled
Marveled at the joy with which he presented three dollar bills
I did not know the truth or falsehood of the man’s marketing
The only power that logic and experience and conversation gave me
Was that I ran.

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