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COME you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o’clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.

Take your pencils
And draw these faces.

Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner–his mouth–
That overall factory girl–her loose cheeks.

Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.

After their night’s sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.

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