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Ashtray
An intimate night
With the right to do
And the only thing to do
An empty ashtray
On the table
No ashes, no crumbs
Molten gold in a frosted mug,
With a sturdy handle
A chilled one
A customary one, two
So faithful
Never straying
Can always be called upon,
To serve the needy
In times of crisis
The ashtray is filled with burnt memories,
Scattered periodically
On the plastic surface
