Sunning in the grass
One stretches out its wing for more
Only Sherlock Holmes or Lt. Colombo
Would notice the one clean book
I slipped back on its dusty shelf
But what has that to do
With the afternoon’s homicide
Or the gray doves sunning
The one about two odd men
Who keep running into one another
In the oddest place their whole lives
Their long train ride back
From the cities of the future
Buried in the stories of the past
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