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Poem: Mint Condition Day 

How I got it made starts after breakfast,
they must always be in a hurry to waste so much.
There are a lot of good neighborhoods
but gun to my head, you can bury me right here
on the corner of ninth and forty-sixth street—
Queen trash can, I call her, surrounded by her minions—
at least five eateries snuggled up tight.
Today, I got me the usual rounds of half-eaten muffins and bagels,
a little oj to wash it down with,
but then I got the gold, the king kong of treats,
a full, warmed up cup of coffee with the top still on it!
It don't have no lipstick or nothin',
clean as a new shine on the hood of a cadillac—
it's mint condition day.

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