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  • I wait for my nemesis
    Anticipating the snap
    Of the lid of the
    old fashioned box.
    The brown uniform
    With bag slung over
    the shoulder.
    There goes a cyclist,
    then a walker,
    then a baby carriage.
    But not a sound I make.
    I hold out for my Moriarty.
    Anxiously, I wait,
    And wait,...and wait...
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