He squeezed the curtains together
Not to see the buildings
Or the people inside
said to enjoy it
Going to the coffee shop
Behind his newspaper
Haggling a pawn
A blacken black stogie
And inch measured anxiety
Little hands of horse lips
Gripping the city streets
Blinkers keep the city moving
For traveling with these blinkers
Making you think that only Vienna is sick with the illness
Of a travelling circus and the suicide squad
CK
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