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I'm the import king of Berlin 

with a host of timeshares. 

I oversee all trading grounds  

and bazaars of the citadel. 

I walk the open air markets  

in the ghettos at night 

where merchants shave without water 

and swat their hands at flies. 

Every fly that tickles their neck 

leaves a stain or drops eggs. 



If they could find the spot 

where the worms become flies 

they would surely have got 

their share of time. 

They would surely have luck 

finding their share of time. 



I used to design women's silk 

with paisley that would trance. 

Until the moths got so bad 

I had to sell off my lamps. 

Business never picked up again 

until I learned the holes 

could be sewn over mirrors

and turned like a kaleidoscope. 


Following the lights with their eyes 

they got their share of time. 



There is always a spot 

where a ripple of light 

forms a peephole that allots 

fair shares of time. 

The patient have found

their share of time. 


Which one is merry? 

Which one is nigh? 

The patient have found 

their share of time. 

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