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Fleeing burning
white arc-light torch
of 24-hour xerox establishment,
a vast, inexplicable solar
event, I stumble
barely,
blinded,
into black Brookline night,
to find hanging over Beacon St.
gentle smiling beacon
of giant yellow moon,
great glowing globe in rare millenial
eclipse of both
Citgo sign and Fenway Park.
September 1997