There is one green light bulb
From an old Christmas tree
In the upper-left-hand plastic ring
Of the thingy that holds together
A six-pack of generic-brand cola,
Reclining in an Ohio landfill,
Never again to be lit
Or decorate a house
Or hold public office,
But the bulb is happy
Because it will outlast the family
Who chucked it in a hefty bag
And forgot all about it.
The bulb remembers.
The bulb is patient.
The bulb is all out of mercy…
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