The central city saw construction.
Hot buckets of tarr and ashphalt.
Agents and politicians.
Sunny streets where debris fell from
precarious sites and ridiculous heights.
My own party by dusk pools where
movers and shakers blabbed drank and popped.
I was assasinated on a nearby farm
by the president of the company´s gun.
I guess I should have with-held evidence.
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