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Poems without Explanations.

The angels up in heaven
Looking down upon the pigeons
Where the birds are each a-poopin'
On the cleanest car a smidgen
While the driver seated flushes
Lunches down and to the fishes
Who blow bubbles full of wishes
To the angels ( in no rushes )
To be other worldly judges
Of which bait to use for fishin'
For a soul or two or seven
After life and death are loopin'
A wet feather
Tickles
A catfish