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Silence of the Bellini

by Andrew Bridgman

The man in the towel who just stood,
The man who talked less than any other could,
Bellini is this man,
Who was still and never ran,
If you have the chance to touch him, take it, you prick,
Even if it means touching him with a stick,
He's a little husky and a little stout,
He enjoys buttermilk, disco carols and trout,
Bellini would not scuttle hurriedly, not even when a rock was falling,
Bellini died in a parking lot, which was quite apalling,
A buttermilk tree sprung, it stood long and tall,
But it was cut down, it was a parking lot after all,
His last hurrah was with a dance with a flower, not a clover,
He took a breath and uttered, "Thank God that's finally over."

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