It’s evening, and the cars are all
Lined up in the dark, wet night,
Waiting for the boat that never comes.
There are so many ways we’ve learned to trust;
So many promises, though broken, we forgive,
Knowing that folks are doing their best
Despite overwhelming odds;
That “Neither snow nor rain
Nor heat nor gloom of night
Shall stay these couriers
From their appointed rounds.”
I still believe, but clearly many have lost faith:
Why else would they elect
A promise to turn all trust upside down?
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