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Buster Keaton by Joel Scarfe

The kindly night has taken in
this body, pestered as it is
with drink.
A radio is playing out in the street,
and the brain in the body is beginning to think
of Buster Keaton
jumping through a window,
or riding the side-rods
of a train.
His face unchanged by decades’ grim duty.
His famous hat doffed between the wars.
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