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Poem	ONE man killed another. The saying between them had been “I’d give you the shirt off my back.” The killer wept over the dead. The dead if he looks back knows the killer was sorry. It was a shot in one second of hate out of ten years of love. Why is the sun a red ball in the six o’clock mist? Why is the moon a tumbling chimney?… tumbling … tumbling … “I’d give you the shirt off my back” … And I’ll kill you if my head goes wrong.
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