Humor in an Age Where Nothing is Funny
Mr. Montesquieu walked along the road From the city out into the suburbs. He saw the chimneys like cigarettes ashed out On the horizon; he understood evening As three or four embers in the Western sky And saw a final streak of sun And found in it his own sense of humor, wry And philosophical. He heard the click-clack Of the train going by on the trac…
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