often sang with bravado
about his country but
he was no politician
no warmonger no Herod
he was a simple blue bird
with black and white stripes
who landed on my shoulder
one day when I was playing
in the street I was eight
and ran slowly toward my house
but fast enough to keep
the hands of my friend
from snatching him from
my shoulder you remember
how he stayed attached
like an epaulet the music
that he played
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