On Seventh Avenue I saw
One of Stevie Smith's tall
And spiky angels. It was
Something over eight feet tall
And narrow as a sword.
No one else seemed to notice
When it brushed aside traffic lights
Or casually plucked a soul
From an aged lawyer hasting
To the First Department knowing
His case was lost already.
One of Stevie Smith's tall
And spiky angels. It was
Something over eight feet tall
And narrow as a sword.
No one else seemed to notice
When it brushed aside traffic lights
Or casually plucked a soul
From an aged lawyer hasting
To the First Department knowing
His case was lost already.
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