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Poetry

I ran

By Jam
June 19, 2003
The Iranian

I ran
when I was lost
in your narrow street,
your face, once a legend,
now smeared in oil,
dust and heat

I ran
when I could,
as far as the other side,
hearing here and there
how many abused you,
therefore me

But you've seen worse,
and what do you care
about honor, or a name?
what do I care
about what once was?
but cannot be?

Not a day
without your name somewhere,
not once was I
free of your spell,
you've seen us all,
in our shiny or humble cloak,
wearing the same senile smile

I ran
for I was tired of crying,
and now more tears than ever
for a lot more like me

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