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They came while he was visiting a friend,
who had a hiding place.
A false bottom, in a bathroom vanity.
Nine in a 6 x 6 hole.
Three couldn’t bear it after three days, shot too.
So he stayed another six days.
There was something terrifying about his story.
It wasn’t in a book.
No photos of his family.
Not one.
When we were in India,
(his son must’ve explained the Svastika)
he’d say, ’Another beautiful day!‘
And rub his hands in anticipation.
Then go for a walk,
without a hat.

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