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The Depot

I have a make-believe teabag in my watch pocket. A crumpet off the griddle. Still warm with freshly churned butter. And I have seashells from the seashore, although there ain't no sand. But I carry my dreams in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Waiting here at the depot as the world passes me by. My ticket is punched. With a make-believe tea bag in my watch pocket.  
 

 

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