the unsung hero of Boston
just rung up your change
while you were lost in
thought: "isn't it strange
that no one here ever smiles?"
you ponder and frown;
your creases dig deeper down.

the unsung hero of Boston
just opened the door
to the gasp of the frost in
the air: "is it just the poor
who have to ride the bus?"
you think, and you frown,
and you leave it behind a while
after you step down.

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