During the night
the Genie escaped from my Aladdin’s lamp
the lid was kicked off; I thot I heard something in my dreams
He went quietly enought tho
Probably sick and tired of fulfilling my wishes
Off to other lands and dreamers
on to freedom and perdition
a semiquaver of silent music
at the moment of his passing
mid autumn morning on the 49th parallel
I swallow the brisk grey air
walking on streets of the city
with a memory
of how he quickly fetched
each and every thing I own.
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