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By Amy B Moreno

A jigsaw piece falls out from the shadows
Hops forward
At first glance, his cheap jacket is ill-fitting
Stretched over a nosy belly
Fastened with a yellow peg
In his rotary-phone routine
He visits, newspaper underarm
Checks the same spot each day
Reads it over and over, checking for good news
Then, when the eyes of the world are half-closed
In the peachy-near-dark
                                    He sings songs of freedom

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