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Paradise Motel

 Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room.
The President Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
In a mirror my face appeared to me Like a twice-canceled postage stamp.
I lived well, but life was awful.
there were so many soldiers that day, So many refugees crowding the roads.
Naturally, they all vanished With a touch of the hand.
History licked the corners of its bloody mouth.
On the pay channel, a man and a woman Were trading hungry kisses and tearing off Each other's clothes while I looked on With the sound off and the room dark Except for the screen where the color Had too much red in it, too much pink.

by Charles Simic
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