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BUS RIDE
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COUNTRY POEMS
All these people.
Where are they going? I'm not knowing.
All these places. All these faces.
They come from all parts of the country;
east, west, north, south.
A very short time, see, a big family.
The countryside that rolls by.
They all look at, with their eyes.
You can hear it in the talk from their mouths.
You can hear it in their hearts.
The American pie, a slice.
It's nice.
