The Day the Lampposts Walked Away
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I was on my morning drive
When a streetlight walked right by.
On slender legs of twisted steel
It waved goodbye with a metallic squeal.
I didn’t quite know what to say
The day the lampposts walked away.

When they got going, they didn’t stop
Not even for the traffic cop.
Blaring lights of sodium
Swaying in a gentle rhythm.
Don Quixote might have foretold
The marching giants in the October cold.

They didn’t say where they would go
When they packed up and hit the road.
Perhaps to congregate with friends
Or pursue nefarious ends.
Who would guide us in the night
Without their sickly yellow light?

Where they went, they must’ve stayed
The day the lampposts walked away.

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