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Serenity by Tom Cook
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| The city lights twinkle before me | |
| Thirty stories below the street is empty. | |
| . | Where once people ran crazy, |
| Everyone headed in a different direcion, | |
| There now lurks the silent whisper of Sunday. | |
| The El whistles by, few aboard | |
| The grinding metal wheels lock | |
| Sliding to a stop | |
| The sound is deafening | |
| That of a seagull throttled by a screaming old woman. | |
| The silence resumes, but | |
| This Sunday rest will soon end | |
| Yielding the chaos and havoc | |
| Of Monay morning. | |