There will be moments of clarity,
Where the comedy of the trap
Appears more acute than normal.
You might be sat at a desk
Or in a meeting room
Surrounded by men with a seriousness
So neatly pinned to their faces
That their every movement seems absurd.
In such circumstances
You might be compelled
To turn to the nearest and ask
Do you like jazz?
Or how do you know if you've ever truly been in love?
In all circumstances
This must be resisted;
There remains certain arenas
Where the smallest act of humanity
Will be seen as treason.
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