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A modern poem: A full belly, bonfire blazing just a little bit away, saved a place for me in the circle of friends as the sun dips below and day comes to an end. Your arms are the only chariot I trust, whether half-asleep in drowsy lust or the fateful day my vessel decides it's time to return to dust. How gently you will exhume me from my body, whisk me so swiftly away to a hospital in a place I cannot here name to evade the Second Death.